


Storytime: Macbeth

by JohnAmendAll



Series: Storytime [3]
Category: Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Life on Mars (UK), Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fusion, Gen, Meta Fic, Storytime, This Time Round
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-24
Updated: 2010-10-24
Packaged: 2017-10-12 20:38:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 23,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/128803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JohnAmendAll/pseuds/JohnAmendAll
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jamie wants to read the story of Macbeth to the wee bairns in the playgroup. What could possibly go wrong?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> For those unfamiliar with the [This Time Round](http://ttrarchive.com/) setting, it began as a Doctor Who equivalent of the Subreality Café, somewhere for the characters to go 'between stories'. It later acquired a setting (the town of Nameless) and a crèche (called Look Who's Talking) populated by baby versions of the characters.
> 
> Storytime is when a story is read to the baby characters and acted out, usually against their will, by the adult ones.

## Prologue

The weather in Nameless, being governed mainly by plot requirements, was of an almost Chestertonian unpredictability. The town's permanent and temporary residents had learned that the opportunities presented by a fine day should not be lightly ignored, and on a hot, cloudless day like the one on which this story opens, nearly everyone headed straight for the beach.

Samantha Briggs looked around at the other members of her party. Victoria, pale and elegant in a full-length white cotton dress, was reclining under a parasol. Zoë had put on her swimsuit but didn't seem to have the energy for swimming; she was lying on her towel with her eyes shut, neither completely awake nor completely asleep. Isobel Watkins, with the aid of sunglasses, a bikini, a cocktail glass, and a copy of 'Thunderball', was contriving to give the impression that James Bond might whisk her away on an adventure at any moment. And Gia Kelly, hardly recognisable in shirt and shorts and with her hair down, was entirely absorbed in trying to finish her melting ice cream before it disintegrated completely.

"You know what?" Samantha said.

Isobel languidly looked up. "What?"

"We look like we belong in an anime. You know, the sort with one lad and millions of girls. We could call it 'Jamie's Angels'." She looked along the beach. "Where's he got to?"

"He promised he'd be here," Victoria said patiently. "Stop fretting, Samantha. That must the the twentieth time you've asked."

"Twenty-third," mumbled Zoë, without opening her eyes.

Gia gulped down the last of her ice cream.

"Could you pass the sunscreen?" she said. "Thanks."

Samantha obligingly handed over the tube of lotion, which Gia began to apply to her face and arms.

"What is it with you girls from the future?" Samantha asked. "Put that much on and you'll be as pasty tomorrow as you were today. Zoë's just the same."

"You should pay more attention to the dangers of ultraviolet radiation," Gia replied. "We're following the latest World Zones Authority health guidelines."

"Mmmm," agreed Zoë.

"Anyway, I was always taught that fair skin is a sign of elegance," Victoria said, making sure she was completely within the shade of the parasol.

"Yeah, but being tanned's cooler," said Samantha.

"You won't look very cool when you're bright red all over," Isobel said. "And your gear really doesn't cry out 'sophistication' to me."

"You what? When I went to New Brighton in this, everyone said it was the grooviest thing they'd ever seen."

"That's what I meant," Isobel replied, with all the disdain of a London fashion photographer for anything outside the capital. "It's so provincial."

Before Samantha could retort, she was distracted by female shrieks and wolf-whistles from further along the beach. She looked round, and discovered the cause: Jamie was strolling nonchalantly in their direction, clad only in tartan swimming trunks and flipflops, and carrying a rolled-up towel.

"Sorry I'm late, lassies," he said as he arrived. "Guid tae see ye all."

There was a general chorus of welcome from Victoria, Samantha, Isobel and Gia; Zoë managed to mutter "Hello" but still didn't open her eyes. Jamie glanced over the gathering and picked a spot between Victoria and Isobel. As he spread out his towel, a bulky volume was revealed.

"What's that?" Gia asked.

Victoria leaned over.

"The complete works of William Shakespeare," she said. "You're doing very well with your reading, Jamie. I'm so proud of you."

"Ah, well, I've got my reasons," Jamie said.

"You're up to something, aren't you?" Samantha asked. "I've never seen you look so guilty."

Isobel sipped at her cocktail. "I have."

"Never mind that," Jamie said hastily.

"So what's the game, then?" Samantha persisted.

Gia didn't laugh — she rarely did — but the corners of her mouth turned up slightly.

"The game's afoot," she said. "Elementary, my dear Samantha. Jamie is planning to read Shakespeare to the children in the nursery."

There was a sharp intake of breath, and Zoë was suddenly sitting bolt upright, wide awake, her face as pale as the zinc oxide cream on her nose.

"Jamie, you're not!" she gasped.

"Oh, and what if I was?" He looked from her to the others. "I was hoping one of you lassies might come and lend a hand. Keep the children quiet, ye ken, and help me if I come across a tricky word."

"I'd rather not go back there if I can help it," Zoë said firmly. "And I strongly advise the rest of you not to either."

"Och, it wasnae so bad as all that."

"There are times, Jamie, when not having an eidetic memory is a positive blessing. I think this is one of them."

"Are ye saying I've forgotten it? I mind it fine. Including the bit where Izzy said afterwards how well we'd coped."

"She said how well **you** 'd coped. I'm sure that was on purpose. And if she'd come back any earlier... it doesn't bear thinking about."

Jamie looked around, grinning.

"D'ye want tae know what the real reason is Zoë's so scared?" he said. "She's afraid her wee sister will get the better of her again."

"You mean the toddler version of her?" Isobel asked.

"That's what I said."

"Oh, Jamie!" Zoë protested. "That's not fair. I had to look after all the other children as well."

"She still wiped the floor wi' you. Anyway, perhaps one of these other lassies feels like helping instead. Only not you, Gia. I need you tae do something else for me."

"It sounds a bit risky," Victoria said nervously.

"Isobel?"

Isobel shook her head. "I'm with Zoë. Once was enough, and by the sound of it I got off lightly."

"Samantha?"

"I'm up for it." She looked defiantly at Isobel, Victoria and Zoë. "I'm not frightened of anything. So, when do we start?"

"Not just yet." Jamie stretched his arms. "I want tae make the most of today. Who feels like a swim?"

\- * -

"Have a jellied eel," Isobel said.

Zoë took an experimental nibble. "Interesting," she said. "Not a flavour they have in a standard food machine. I think I could get used to it, given time. First introduced in the eighteenth century; commonly sold in London and some seaside resorts..."

Isobel slapped her gently on the wrist. "Bad Zoë. Stop behaving like a database."

Victoria, who'd just returned from a dip in the sea, towelled her hair.

"Are you sure a sophisticated person would eat jellied eels?" she asked teasingly.

Isobel laughed. "I think it's a bit late to worry about that now."

"You're right," Victoria admitted. "We look positively wild."

"Well, you can blame that on Jamie. Once he'd buried me in the sand I gave up on glamour for the day."

"Where is he, by the way?" Zoë asked.

"I haven't seen him. Or Samantha or Gia. I thought they'd gone swimming with you two."

Zoë shoved her Alice band back into place. "They did. But then they said they'd come back here to see if you'd got back yet with the food."

"So, to put it bluntly, they've diddled us and gone off on their own," Isobel summarised.

Victoria groaned. "It's this Shakespeare business. I hoped Jamie would see sense when we spoke to him earlier."

"What, round here?"

"I know. Samantha's a wonderful person, but she does egg him on. And now he's gone off with her and Gia and I _know_ they're going to get into trouble."

"Can't be helped," said Isobel, and started on another eel. "If he wants to get into trouble we can't stop him."

Victoria gave her a disapproving look.

"You two are just as irresponsible," she said. "Sometimes I think I'm the only sensible person here." She picked up her parasol, and rose to her feet. "I'm going after them."

"One, you don't know where they've gone," Zoë pointed out reasonably. "Two, just because Jamie's being silly we shouldn't let him spoil our day. Three, it's too hot to go running around after him. And four, if you insist on doing the running around you should at least change into some dry clothes first."

Victoria reluctantly rejoined them.

"We can always track them down tomorrow morning and talk them out of it," Zoë continued. "Let's meet up at the Round at nine."

"Now try to relax," Isobel said. "Have one of these eels."

\- * -

The following day, the weather was damp, with sea mist that obstinately refused to clear. When Victoria finally turned up at the Round, a few minutes after ten, the place seemed almost empty. Though some of that might have been down to Polly's odd behaviour.

"Morning, Peri," was her opening gambit.

Victoria instinctively checked to see if her demure dress had mysteriously changed into a bright pink lycra number with a plunging neckline — stranger things than that happened all the time in the vicinity of the Round — and, being reassured that it hadn't, sought an explanation.

"Why did you call me that?" she asked.

"Oh, aren't you? Sorry. What name, please?"

Victoria closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "I hope you aren't joking; I'm not sure I could stand it now. Who do you think I am? Alice Liddell?"

Polly ran her finger down the list.

"Oh, yes. Cameo in 'Fear in a Handful of Dust', by Robin Carroll-Mann. My apologies, Miss Liddell. Do go in."

Victoria gave her a baffled look, and did so.

Polly, or rather Michelle, relaxed. She thought she'd probably got away with it, but it was beginning to dawn on her that impersonating the Round's door warden was harder than it looked.

Adric was idly polishing the bar, but looked up with concern as Victoria approached.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Victoria swallowed.

"Upset stomach," she said. "And I didn't get to sleep until the small hours."

"Can I get you anything?"

"No, I couldn't face it. I was supposed to be meeting Isobel and Zoë here an hour ago, except I didn't wake up in time. Have you seen them?"

Adric shook his head. "I only just got here myself."

"Well, if you see them, tell them I was here."

"Where can they find you?" he asked.

"I don't know. Somewhere out there." And with that, she set out in the direction of Nameless. The mist swallowed her.

\- * -

Even by mid-afternoon, visibility was wretched, and everyone seemed to be indoors. Jamie and Samantha, who'd spent most of the morning reading through the play they'd chosen, encountered hardly anybody on the streets.

"Here we are," Samantha said, checking the sketch map Gia had given her. "Are you sure this is right? It just looks like an electricity substation."

Jamie shrugged. "One way tae find out."

He knocked three times on the door, a sturdy steel panel painted a faded green. It slid open, revealing a staircase leading down.

"Seems you're right," Samantha said. "Come on."

At the bottom of the staircase, a short passage led to a cavernous hall, laid out in the same utilitarian manner as the substation above, and full of equipment whose purpose could only be guessed at. Cables from the ceiling ran down into cabinets painted an institutional grey colour. A huge coil the size of a small car stood in the middle of the floor, encrusted with support circuitry. Another similar coil, partly dismantled, was closer to the entrance. Against one wall were several glass booths, about the height of a telephone kiosk, but twice as wide. A complicated control panel faced them.

Not far from the control panel was a large desk, mostly stacked with circuit boards and tools, but with some areas left clear. In one such area, Gia Kelly was sitting, wearing a utilitarian jumpsuit and with her hair back in its usual ponytail.

"You're in good time," she said, climbing down off the desk.

"I really don't get you," Samantha said. "You work on stuff like this all day. What d'you want to do it for in your spare time as well?"

"I enjoy it," Gia said shortly. "Now, you're ready to proceed as we discussed last night?"

Jamie and Samantha nodded.

"Then take booth number two. I've tested it this morning and it seems to be in working order."

Jamie stepped cautiously into the cubicle. Samantha jumped cheerfully in alongside him.

Gia walked around to the far side of the control panel, and methodically activated a set of switches. Several of the larger free-standing machines began to glow or hum ominously.

"Power build-up complete," she said. "Are you ready?"

"When you are," Samantha said. "Beam us up, Scot— No, that won't work, will it? Scotty's in here with me."

Gia ignored her and bent over the controls.


	2. Act 1

## Act 1

Izzy looked around the nursery with satisfaction. The subdued weather seemed to have dampened the toddlers' spirits; so far today, no-one had managed to injure anyone else (though if she hadn't confiscated the toy stethoscope Nyssa had been using in the game of Doctors and Nurses things might have been different), no-one had been ill, and there hadn't even been any breakages.

She reached for the storybook—

—For a moment, she was standing in a T-Mat cubicle, and a blonde woman in a strange-looking jumpsuit was outside, calmly working the controls—

—And then she was in another cubicle, one whose purpose was all too obvious.

*

Jamie sat in the chair, while Samantha knelt among the toddlers and settled them down.

"That's Big Jamie," said a tiny dark-haired girl in a primrose-yellow romper suit. "Does that mean Big Zoë's here as well?"

"No," Samantha said. "She bottled it."

"Good." Little Zoë smiled tightly. "If she comes back here I'll get her. She thinks she's clever, but she's not as clever as me. No-one's more cleverer than I am..."

She took a pace back, stumbled, and fell over. Samantha managed to catch her before she hit the ground.

"Yeah," she said. "I can see that."

Jamie cleared his throat, and began to read.

"The Tragedy Of Macbeth," he proclaimed.

> _[Act 1, Scene 1. A desert place. Thunder and lightning. Enter three witches.]_
> 
> **Movie-Susan:**  
>  When shall we three meet again?  
>  In thunder, lightning, or in rain?
> 
> **Jackie:**  
>  When the hurley-burley's done;  
>  When the battle's lost and won.
> 
> **Sarah Jane Smith** _(the older Sarah from ' School Reunion')_ :  
>  That will be ere the set of sun.
> 
> _[She stops, and looks at the other two.]_
> 
> The maiden, the mother and... I **see**. By the way, are we going to be doing the whole thing word for word?
> 
> **Jamie / Narrator:**  
>  I think we'll skip some bits, so the wee bairns don't get bored. But ye might as well finish this scene.
> 
> **Movie-Susan:**  
>  Where the place?
> 
> **Jackie:**  
>  Upon the heath.
> 
> **Sarah:**  
>  There to meet with Macbeth.
> 
> **Movie-Susan** _[putting her hand to her ear]_ :  
>  I come, Grimalkin.
> 
> **Jackie:**  
>  Paddock calls.
> 
> **Sarah:**  
>  Anon.
> 
> **All:**  
>  Fair is foul, and foul is fair,  
>  Hover through the fog and filthy air.
> 
> _[As ponderously as Daleks, they elevate.]_

"Who's calling them?" asked little Martha.

"That's their familiar spirits," Jamie explained. "Grimalkin's probably a cat, and Paddock's a frog."

"Do the witches turn people into frogs?" Martha asked hopefully. "Is that how they get frogs that can talk?"

Jamie shook his head solemnly. "No-one's getting turned into a frog today."

The baby Rani scowled. "If no-one gets turned into a frog this is a useless story."

"Why didn't we see their cat?" grumbled the little Ainley Master. "Cats are nice."

> _[Act 1, Scene 2. A camp near Forres. Alarum within. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Lennox, with attendants, meeting a bleeding Captain.]_
> 
> **Yrcanos / Duncan:**  
>  What bloody man is that? He can report,  
>  As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt  
>  The newest state.
> 
> **Richard Mace / Malcolm:**  
>  This is the sergeant  
>  Who like a good and hardy soldier fought  
>  'Gainst my captivity. Hail, brave friend.  
>  Say to the King the knowledge of the broil  
>  As thou didst leave it.

"Did somebody order..." Mel counted solemnly on her fingers. "Two large hams?"

> **Captain Jack:**  
>  Yep, I'm here to tell you how the battle's going. Don't worry about, y'know, the blood and that. I'll be all right in a few minutes. Anyway, here's the story. The bad guys were someone called Macdonald and the king of Norway. We were pretty much getting hammered, but Macbeth and Banquo saved our butts. Don't bother calling the surgeons, I'll just stick around until I'm better.
> 
> _[Enter Ross and Angus.]_
> 
> **Yrcanos / Duncan:**   
>  Who comes here?
> 
> **Richard Mace / Malcolm:**   
>  The worthy Thane of Ross.
> 
> **Brigadier / Ross:**  
>  I'll come straight to the point. We won.
> 
> **Yrcanos / Duncan:**  
>  Great happiness!  
>  No more that Thane of Cawdor shall deceive  
>  Our bosom interest. Go pronounce his present death,  
>  And with his former title greet Macbeth.
> 
> **Brigadier / Ross** _[clicking his heels]:_  
>  I'll see it done.
> 
> **Yrcanos / Duncan:**   
>  What he hath lost, noble Macbeth hath won.
> 
> _[Exeunt severally.]_

"What was all that about?" Baby Jo asked.

"There was a battle," Samantha explained. "And Macbeth was one of the generals on the king's side. The Thane of Cawdor fought with the enemy, so he's going to have his head cut off and Macbeth's going to get his job."

The children leaned forward, eager to see what would happen next.

> _[Act 1, Scene 3. A heath near Forres. Thunder. Enter the three witches.]_
> 
> **Movie-Susan:**  
>  Where hast thou been, sister?
> 
> **Jackie:**  
>  Sister! You've got a nerve.
> 
> **Sarah:**  
>  I think we'd better drop poetic forms. Let's tell them all what sort of day we've had.
> 
> **Movie-Susan** _[sighs]_ :  
>  All right. I've been plotting to give a sailor a really hard time because his wife wouldn't give me her chestnuts. _[She looks puzzled.]_ I don't even like chestnuts.
> 
> **Jackie:**  
>  I put me feet up and had a nice rest.
> 
> **Sarah:**  
>  And I—
> 
> _[Drum within.]_
> 
> **Sarah:**  
>  A drum, a drum—  
>  Macbeth doth come.  
>  Er, I think we're supposed to dance in a ring?
> 
> **Jackie:**  
>  Sod that for a game of soldiers. Let the kid do it.
> 
> _[Movie-Susan accordingly capers about a bit. Enter Macbeth and Banquo.]_
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  I might have known. Here we are again, stars of stage, screen and Story Time.
> 
> **Adric / Banquo:**  
>  Tell me about it. _[He turns away from Macbeth.]_ Do I by any chance have a target painted on the back of my tunic?
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  Not a visible one. _[He looks around gloomily]_. Rotten weather, too.
> 
> **Adric / Banquo:**  
>  Hello. Who are these three people? I don't like the look of them, so withered and so wild in their attire.
> 
> **Jackie** _[aside]_ :  
>  Fashion advice from a bloke in yellow pyjamas. Now I've heard it all.
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  Speak, if you can. What are you?
> 
> **Movie-Susan:**  
>  All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Glamis.
> 
> **Jackie:**  
>  All hail, Macbeth! Hail to thee, Thane of Cawdor.
> 
> **Sarah:**  
>  All hail, Macbeth, that shalt be king hereafter!
> 
> **Adric / Banquo:**  
>  That's... interesting. Do I get some testable predictions too?
> 
> **Movie-Susan:**  
>  Lesser than Macbeth, and greater.
> 
> **Jackie:**  
>  Not so happy, yet much happier.
> 
> **Sarah:**  
>  Thou shalt get kings, though thou be none.  
>  So all hail, Macbeth and Banquo!
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  And that's infuriatingly enigmatic. D'you have anything more practical to say?
> 
> _[The witches cross their hands over their hearts, and vanish with a wheezing, groaning sound.]_
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  There's something you don't see every day.
> 
> _[Enter Ross and Angus.]_
> 
> **Brigadier / Ross:**  
>  Macbeth! Splendid. The King wants to see you.
> 
> **Group Capt Gilmore / Angus:**  
>  And he's going to make you Thane of Cawdor.
> 
> **Adric / Banquo:**  
>  That was quick.
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  What happened to the last Thane?
> 
> **Group Capt Gilmore / Angus:**  
>  He's still alive, but that won't last very long. He was on the losing  
>  side, you see.
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth** _[aside]_ :  
>  Oh, great. This is where I get to agonise about whether the witches' prediction means I have to resort to murder to be made king. Well, I'm not doing it, and that's final. _[A thought strikes him.]_ I wonder what the wife will say about all this? Best not to tell her.
> 
> **Adric / Banquo:**  
>  Worthy Macbeth, we stay upon your leisure.
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  All right, coming.
> 
> _[Exeunt.]_

Little Jo put up her hand.

"Why isn't he going to tell his wife?" she asked.

Jamie peered at the text of the play, but enlightenment eluded him.

"Samantha?" he eventually asked.

"Actually, he's supposed to," Samantha said briskly. "I think he might be trying to muck the story about. We'd better keep an eye on him."

"Aye, that's it," said Jamie with relief, and turned over two pages at once without noticing.

> _[Act 1, Scene 5. Inverness, Macbeth's castle. Enter Lady Macbeth and Banquo.]_
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  Hang on. I'm supposed to be playing an infamous villainess, and I nag my husband until he commits a series of murders just to shut me up? What is this Book trying to say about me?
> 
> **Adric / Banquo:**  
>  Um... I suppose it can't get things right all the time.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  Getting things right once would be a start. _[She gets into character.]_ So you say you met these three weird women?
> 
> **Adric / Banquo:**  
>  Yes, and they came up with all sorts of strange predictions.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  Like what?
> 
> **Adric / Banquo:**  
>  Well, they said your husband was going to be Thane of Cawdor. And then it came true.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  Anything else?
> 
> **Adric / Banquo:**  
>  Um. Er. No. Definitely not.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  Well?
> 
> **Adric / Banquo:**  
>  He made me promise not to tell you.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  Oh, did he? If you don't spill the beans, I'll clout you round the ear.
> 
> **Adric / Banquo** _[backing away]_ :  
>  Not that there's anything to tell you...
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** _[advancing threateningly on him]_ :  
>  Come on, cough it up. You will tell me! YOU! WILL! TELL! MEEEE!!!!
> 
> **Adric / Banquo** _[against a wall, with nowhere to run]_ :  
>  Theysaidhe'dbecometheKing.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  What?
> 
> **Adric / Banquo:**  
>  They said he'd become the King.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  Hmmm. All right, you can go now.
> 
> _[Adric / Banquo makes his escape. Frobisher enters, in penguin form, carrying a silver salver and trying to look like a butler.]_
> 
> **Frobisher:**  
>  The King comes here tonight.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  Is my husband with him?
> 
> **Frobisher:**  
>  So please you, it is true. Our thane is coming.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  Excellent. You can go.
> 
> _[Frobisher leaves, singing tunelessly to himself.]_
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  The... oh dear... The penguin himself is hoarse  
>  That croaks the fatal entrance of Duncan  
>  Under my battlements. Come, you spirits  
>  That tend on mortal thoughts, unsex me here,

"What does that mean?" Dodo asked innocently.

"It means she thinks women are soppy," Samantha replied. "So she wants to be less like a woman."

This brought forth a barrage of rude noises and cries of "Girls are better!" from various members of the audience.

"Yeah, I know," Samantha continued. "Jamie, I think you might want to skip a bit."

"That's no' a bad idea," Jamie said, noting with relief that he would thus avoid having to deal with the word 'compunctious'.  


> _[Enter Macbeth.]_
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  So there you are. What time d'you call this, then? Don't expect any dinner on the table.
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  My dearest love,  
>  Duncan comes here tonight.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  Oh, great. That's all we need, your boss coming round to dinner. I haven't got anything fit to eat in the castle. How long does he want to stay?
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  He's leaving tomorrow.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  I don't think so. He isn't ever going to leave, is he?
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  What?
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  I know what you're planning. You're going to murder him tonight.
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  No! I'm not!
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  Oh, yes you are. Those witches said you're going to be the King—
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  How did you know?
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  Adric blew the gaff.
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth** _[aside]_ :  
>  Drat.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  This time you'll do exactly as you're told.  
>  My mind is clear. The King shall never leave  
>  Unless he's first cut into tiny bits.  
>  Which shall to all our nights and days to come  
>  Give solely sovereign sway and masterdom.
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth** _[aside]_ :  
>  I'll get you for this, Adric of Alzarius.
> 
> _[Act 1, Scene 6. Outside the castle. Hautboys and torches. Enter King Duncan, Malcolm, Donalbain, Banquo, Lennox, Macduff, Ross, Angus and attendants.]_
> 
> **Yrcanos / Duncan:**  
>  This castle hath a pleasant seat. The air  
>  Nimbly and sweetly recommends itself  
>  Unto our gentle senses.
> 
> **Adric / Banquo:**  
>  People keep telling me I should get out in the fresh air. I don't see what's so special about it.
> 
> _[Enter Lady Macbeth, dressed in her purple uniform.]_
> 
> **Yrcanos / Duncan:**   
>  See, see, our honour'd hostess!
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  'Hostess'. Oh my aching sides.
> 
> **Yrcanos / Duncan:**   
>  Fair and noble hostess,  
>  We are your guest tonight.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  Please ensure luggage is securely stowed in the overhead lockers— Oh, rabbits. You've got me doing it now.
> 
> **Yrcanos / Duncan:**  
>  Give me your hand.  
>  Conduct me to mine host. We love him highly,  
>  And shall continue our graces towards him.  
>  By your leave, hostess.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  WILL YOU STOP CALLING ME THAT?!
> 
> _[Act 1, Scene 7. Macbeth's castle. Hautboys. Torches. Enter a sewer and  
>  divers servants with dishes and service over the stage.]_

The children started giggling. Jamie sighed.

"Look," he said. "When it says sewer, it means a waiter. And divers servants doesnae mean people in rubber suits. It just means 'assorted'."  


> _[The servants, who are comprised of four Cybermen carrying a length of concrete pipe and the Third Doctor and the Delgado Master in their diving suits from 'The Sea Devils', look sheepish and creep away._
> 
> _A waiter (a waiter droid from 'The Crystal Bucephalus') and diverse servants (comprising Rose, Astrid and Gwyneth in their maid outfits) pass through the room carrying trays of empty plates and glasses._
> 
> _Then enter Macbeth.]_
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  This is a really lousy idea. I'm supposed to murder a king who everybody loves and hope that no-one finds me out. And no-one's supposed to notice that, oh, what a coincidence, he was sleeping at my castle the night he died, and I just so happen to be the main beneficiary from his death?
> 
> _[Enter Lady Macbeth.]_
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth** _[unenthusiastically]_ :  
>  How now? What news?
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  He's nearly finished his dinner. What do you think you're playing at skulking around out here?
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  I'm good at skulking. Anyway, how are you getting on with him?
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** _[sweetly and calmly]_ :  
>  About the ninth time he called me 'hostess', I said to myself, "If he calls me that once more I'm going to murder him." And then I said to myself, "No. My **husband** is going to murder him." _[She suddenly rounds on him.]_ **AREN'T YOU?**
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  Um, well, I thought it might be better if we called the whole thing off.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  You're pathetic, you really are. Can't you do this one simple thing for me?
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  Prithee, peace.  
>  I dare do all that may become a man;  
>  Who dares do more is none.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  What beast was't then  
>  That made you break this enterprise to me?
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth** _[mumbling]_ :  
>  Actually, it was your idea...
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  When you durst do it, then you were a man;  
>  And to be more than what you were, you would  
>  Be so much more the man. Nor time nor place  
>  Did then adhere, and yet you would make both.  
>  They have made themselves, and that their fitness now  
>  Does unmake you. I have given suck, and—
> 
> **Turlough:**  
>  Aargh! Too much information! _[He covers his ears.]_
> 
> **Tegan** _[bright red]_ :  
>  Oh, rabbits. I think I've just corrupted the nation's youth.
> 
> **Turlough:**  
>  And made several fans' day, I don't doubt. Perhaps you'd better not stick quite so closely to the text in future.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  All right. Here's the plan. The King's going to be tired after his day's journey. When he's gone to bed, I get his chamberlains drunk. Then you can get past them to murder the King.
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  And make it look like his chamberlains did it?
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  That's more like it.
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  I still think this whole murder thing is a terrible idea, but if it were done when 'tis done, then 'twere well it were done competently.
> 
> **Tegan / Lady Macbeth:**  
>  See, I knew you had it in you.
> 
> **Turlough / Macbeth:**  
>  I am settled, and bend up  
>  Each corporal agent to this terrible feat.  
>  Away, and mock the time with fairest show.  
>  False face must hide what the false heart doth know.
> 
> _[Exeunt]_

"This isn't very exciting," baby Ace complained. "We didn't get to watch anyone's head being cut off at all."

"I don't think it's a proper war if you don't get to see it," little Tobias said. "Just having someone come in and tell you there was a big fight is cheating."

"Oh, you'd never allow something like that, would you?" Samantha asked him. "Not even if there was, I dunno, an invasion or something?"

The toddlers obligingly tittered.

"Anyway, it'll get more exciting later," Samantha continued.

She rose to her feet and crossed to where Jamie was sitting with the book.

"Can't you liven it up a bit?" she whispered to him.


	3. First Interlude

## Interlude 1

Izzy was torn between pride in the efficiency of her escape, and annoyance at the knowledge that she was good at this sort of thing precisely because she kept having to do it.

It had taken her less than five minutes to escape from the empty warehouse in which she'd been deposited. Once she'd got out of the locked lavatory cubicle by climbing over the partition, the rest had been plain sailing — ascend to the roof (which for some reason had been laid out as an elaborate bonsai garden), find a fire escape, climb down it, get her bearings, and head for Look Who's Talking.

She had a shrewd idea who was behind this, too. The last people to succeed at an Izzy-kidnapping operation had been Jamie and Zoë, and the smoothness with which she'd been abducted this time suggested that this wasn't the work of raw novices.

She rounded a corner and the nursery was before her, its three Dalek guardians standing placidly outside.

"What's the situation?" she asked as she hurried up.

If the leading Dalek had had shoulders, it would have shrugged them. It did the Dalek equivalent, a sort of waggle of the eyestalk.

"SITUATION. GREEN." it said.

"Right." Izzy rolled up her sleeves. "I'm going in. Stand by in case I need support."

"HAVE A NICE. DAY."

She burst into the nursery...

*

... Except it was a bowling alley. A beaming, chubby, red-faced man with a checked jacket and a lopsided moustache looked up from behind his desk.

"I don't think I've seen you here before," he said. "Are you a member?"

"What the..." Izzy turned back and looked at the door through which she'd entered. The mist made things difficult, but it looked as if there was a flight of steps outside, which she certainly hadn't climbed.

"Excuse me a moment," she said, and walked out. Her eyes hadn't deceived her; she was standing at the top of a short flight of steps, at the foot of which was a cobbled street. Buildings of varied ages and shapes, painted in pastel colours, stretched away in both directions. There was no sign of the crèche, or of the Daleks.

"Curiouser and curiouser." She went back inside. The man gave her an encouraging smile.

"This may sound like a stupid question," she said. "But this is Nameless, isn't it?"

"It certainly is, madam."

"So... do you know the way to This Time Round?"

"Go out of here, turn left, across the roundabout, turn right at the lights, keep going until you come to a shop called Carter's Imports..."

"Thanks," Izzy interrupted. "I know the way from there."

The man raised his eyebrows. "Oh, do you? I wouldn't have thought a nice young lady like you would be interested in that sort of thing. Trust me, that end of town is full of nothing but weirdoes."

A party of hermaphrodite hexapods in Goth makeup and wearing Aston Villa football shirts chose that moment to arrive, squeaking cheerful greetings to the man on the desk as they entered.

"Weirdoes," the man repeated complacently. "Good thing we don't get that sort round here."

"Thank you," Izzy said, and ran for it.

*

It was some time later that Izzy, fatigued and annoyed, arrived at the Round. She didn't even notice Michelle's cheery "Afternoon, Donna."

"One Lucozade," François said, placing the drink before her. "Rough day?"

"You could say that." Izzy took a gulp of the fizzy liquid. "That's better. You haven't seen Jamie or Zoë around?"

"Not seeing skirt-boy or zany girl all day," the Ogron replied. "Dead boy was saying dark-hair screaming girl looking for them as well."

Izzy took a moment to do a mental translation. So Victoria knew or suspected something too.

"She hasn't been back?"

The Ogron shook his head.

"Any ideas where she might be? Or Jamie or Zoë?"

François turned his palms upward.

"Zany girl sometimes selling flowers in shop," he said. "More than that, François not knowing."

*

After another long walk Izzy triumphantly pushed the door of the flower shop open, and descended on the young brunette behind the counter.

"Right," she said. "I want answers and I want them now."

"You don't mean asters?" the florist replied, puzzled.

"Stop mucking me around. I know you and Jamie are up to something, and I want to know what..." She trailed off as she read the florist's name badge. "Oh no. You're Zoot's identical twin sister Dingo, aren't you?"

Jenny shrugged. "Don't worry. I get this all the time. You're after Zoë, I take it."

"She does work here?"

"Oh yes, but this isn't one of her days."

"Back to square one." With a supreme effort, Izzy restrained herself from chucking a flowerpot through the window. "Do you know where I might find her?"

"She's got a place out on the industrial estate. You can't miss it."

Izzy set out once more, feeling rather as if she were being bounced about in a pinball machine.


	4. Act 2

## Act 2

Jamie waited until Samantha had settled the children down after their milk. Then he picked up the Shakespeare again.

"Now, children," he said. "Sit quietly and ye'll find out whether Macbeth did manage to kill the King."

>  _[Act 2, Scene 1. The court of Macbeth's castle. Enter Banquo and Fleance, with a torch before him. Fleance is played by Zack, a small dark-haired boy of about six.]_
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  How goes the night, boy?
> 
>  **Zack / Fleance** :  
>  The moon is down. I have not heard the clock.
> 
>  _[Enter Macbeth.]_
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  Give me my sword. _[Zack does so.]_ Who's there?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I'll let you have three guesses.
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  Oh, it's you.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  What a surprise, considering who owns this castle.
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  You're up late. I'm going to turn in now.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Sleep well.
> 
>  _[Exeunt Banquo and Fleance.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I will proceed no further in this business.  
> He hath honoured me of late, and I have bought  
> Golden opinions from all sorts of people,  
> Which would be worn now in their newest gloss,  
> Not cast aside so soon.

Jamie sighed. "He's supposed to have made up his mind in the last act. We're getting nowhere. Samantha, can ye take the book a moment? I'm going tae have a wee word wi' yon lamarag."

>  **Turlough** :  
>  Are you still there? I don't see why I should be sneaking around murdering  
> people all the time— aargh!
> 
>  _[Jamie has appeared before him, semi-transparent, in a swirl of tartan-patterned video effects, robed in black and with a raven on his head.]_
> 
>  **Jamie** :  
>  Can ye no' jist get on wi'it?
> 
>  **Turlough** :  
>  Whatever do you think you're doing?
> 
>  **Jamie** :  
>  I'm telling the little children an exciting and historical tale. And you're going tae murder the King.
> 
>  **Raven** _[nodding]_ :  
>  Aark.
> 
>  **Turlough** :  
>  I'm always getting roped into stupid murder plans and it isn't fair.
> 
>  **Jamie** :  
>  Look, I'll make it easy for you.
> 
>  _[He draws his skean-dhu and holds it up in front of Turlough.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** _[with a deep sigh]_ :  
>  Is this a dagger which I see before me,  
> The handle toward my hand? Come, let me clutch thee.
> 
>  **Jamie** :  
>  Fine. Now keep it up, because ye'll no' be getting out of the story otherwise.
> 
>  _[He vanishes. A bell rings.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** _[resignedly]_ :  
>  I go, and it is done. The bell invites me.  
> Hear it not, Duncan; for it is a knell  
> That summons thee to heaven or to hell.
> 
>  _[He creeps into the bedchamber with a dagger at the ready. A moment later, we hear a roar from King Yrcanos, who proceeds to chase him out of the bedchamber and through the castle, brandishing a colossal claymore.]_
> 
>  _ **Turlough** _[desperately running]_ :  
>  This isn't how it's supposed to go!_
> 
>  **Yrcanos** _[charging after him]_ :  
>  Die! You Mentor pigs!

Jamie looked helplessly at Samantha, and made urgent gestures.

>  **Samantha / Narrator** _[frantically improvising]_ :  
>  As they came to the top of the main staircase, the King... tripped over a broom... and fell down the stairs... and landed on his own sword... and was hit by falling masonry... and died of an ingrowing toenail.
> 
>  _[Yrcanos, lying artistically among fallen polystyrene boulders, with a sword propped up to look like it's sticking in him, and plenty of the inevitable tomato sauce everywhere, does a scene-shaking death cry.]_

"He has murdered his rightful leader," Baby Leela commented. "For this he must be punished by his tribe."

"Yeah," Ace said happily. "Loads of blood. Ace."

>  _[Act 2, Scene 2. Macbeth's castle. Enter Lady Macbeth. She's still dressed as an air hostess and is carrying a tray of miniatures, some of which are empty.]_
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Right, that's the King's servants drugged. And I put the daggers out ready for my husband, so he can't come up with any lame excuses about not having the weapons to hand.
> 
>  _[Enter Macbeth.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** _[looking somewhat exhausted]_ :  
>  I have done the deed. Didst thou not hear a noise?
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  That depends. Did it sound anything like five minutes of bellowing followed by a lorry load of scrap metal being tipped off a cliff?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Yes, that would be it. _[He looks at his hands, which are stained with red paint.]_ What a mess.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Stop complaining. If you dwell on it you'll only make matters worse. And why are you still carrying those daggers around? You look like a vegetable salesman trying to drum up interest in his carrots.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Methought I heard a voice cry 'Sleep no more,  
> Macbeth does murder sleep.' Though that might be  
> The thought of what it would be like with you  
> Nagging me night and day for four more acts.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Oh, shut up. Give me the daggers. I'll fake the evidence, you stay here and get a grip on yourself.
> 
>  _[She takes the daggers and her leave.]_
> 
>  _[Knocking within.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** _[jumping]_ :  
>  Aargh! Oh, it's just somebody at the door. My nerves are in shreds. _[He looks at his hands.]_ And I bet this paint won't wash off properly.
> 
>  _[Enter Lady Macbeth; her hands are now painted red as well.]_
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  My hands are of your colour, but I shame  
> To wear a heart so white.
> 
>  _[Knocking within.]_
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  There's somebody at the door.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Yes, I had worked that out, thank you.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Then let's get back to our bedroom, wash our hands, and make it look like we were asleep in bed. Honestly, have you never read any detective fiction?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I did Macbeth in the fifth form. Trust me, Sherlock Holmes does not put in an appearance.
> 
>  _[Knocking within.]_
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Get a move on! _[She makes for the bedroom.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Wake Duncan with thy knocking. I would thou couldst.
> 
>  _[He follows her.]_

"Why did he say that?" little Susan asked. "He knows the King's dead."

"And if he did wake up he'd only chase him again," added baby Sarah.

"That bit was funny!" Vicki giggled.

"Look," Samantha said patiently. "He wishes the King would wake up, because now he's killed him he realises what a bad idea it was. Actually, he realised that before, but his wife talked him into doing it anyway."

"What was all that about the paint on his hands?" little Nyssa asked. "If water won't do it he could try white spirit or turpentine or Swarfega."

"Swarfega turns you into a hairy green monster," Liz said seriously.

Vicki giggled again. "I'd like to see that happen to someone in this play."

>  _[Act 2, Scene 3. The castle gateway. Enter a porter. Knocking within.]_
> 
>  **Jo / Porter** _[rather tipsy]_ :  
>  Ooh, hang on. I'm on my way.
> 
>  _[Knocking within.]_
> 
>  **Jo / Porter** :  
>  It's all right, I can hear you. Now where did I put the key?
> 
>  _[She delves in her handbag. Knocking within.]_
> 
>  **Jo / Porter** :  
>  Got it. No, wait, that's for the TARDIS.
> 
>  _[Knocking within.]_
> 
>  **Jo / Porter** :  
>  Don't panic, everything's under control. Now that's the key for Bessie, and that one's for my flat, and— _[She fumbles and almost drops the bag]_ Ooh, steady on there.
> 
>  _[Knocking within.]_
> 
>  **Jo / Porter** :  
>  Calm down, calm down, I'm onto it. Ah. Here we are.
> 
>  _[She pulls out a huge iron key and tries unsteadily to fit it into the lock. It slips from her fingers and disappears down a grating in the floor.]_
> 
>  _[Knocking within.]_
> 
>  **Jo / Porter** :  
>  Whoops, butterfingers.
> 
>  _[She lies on the ground, opens the grating, and reaches into it.]_
> 
>  **Jo / Porter** :  
>  Blast, can't quite reach it.
> 
>  _[The whirr of the sonic screwdriver is heard. The lock clicks; the door opens. Enter Macduff and Lennox.]_
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Was it so late, friend, ere you went to bed  
> That you do lie so late?
> 
>  **Jo / Porter** :  
>  No, I've dropped the key down this drain. Can you reach it?
> 
>  _[Macduff effortlessly retrieves the key and hands it to her.]_
> 
>  **Jo / Porter** :  
>  Thanks. You're a star. Now I've just got to see who's knocking at the door.
> 
>  _[She fumbles the key into the lock, and, not realising that it's already unlocked, opens the door.]_
> 
>  **Jo / Porter** :  
>  Oh. There's nobody there. Wretched kids. _[She turns and addresses the audience.]_ Now, all of you watching, please remember that it is very naughty to knock on doors and run away, and we certainly do not condone this behaviour.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  I believe drink gave thee the lie last night.
> 
>  **Jo / Porter** :  
>  Rubbish. I've hardly touched a drop. _[She takes a few paces, trips over, and collapses in a heap.]_ Whoopsadaisy. Must have been a loose flagstone.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Is thy master stirring?
> 
>  **Jo / Porter** :  
>  Well, he doesn't do anything for me! _[Laughs far too loudly at her own joke.]_
> 
>  _[Enter Macbeth.]_
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Our knocking has awaked him; here he comes.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Morning.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Is the King up and about yet?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Not yet.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Only I've got an appointment with him in a few minutes time. _[He holds up the psychic paper.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I'll bring you to him.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Don't worry, I know the way.
> 
>  _[He leaves.]_
> 
>  **Ben / Lennox** :  
>  Rough old night last night, wasn't it? Terrible racket. Chimneys blown down and all, so they say.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Yes.
> 
>  **Ben / Lennox** :  
>  And ill omens and portents. Voices crying death on the wind and that. Not to mention I had a penguin on the roof trying to sing "Largo al factotum" all night.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** _[wincing]_ :  
>  Omens and portents, you say? I didn't notice.
> 
>  _[Enter Macduff.]_
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** _[shellshocked]_ :  
>  He's dead.
> 
>  **Ben / Lennox** :  
>  Do you mean the King?
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** _[still shellshocked]_ :  
>  That's right. Go and look for yourselves.
> 
>  _[Exit Macbeth and Lennox.]_
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** _[pulls himself together, picks up a bell and begins to ring it]_ :  
>  Wake up everyone! Someone's murdered the King! Malcolm! Banquo! Wake up!
> 
>  _[Enter Lady Macbeth, wearing her nightdress from ' Snakedance'.]_
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** _[feigning sleepiness]_ :  
>  What's all the noise about?
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Sorry, lass, but I don't know how to break it to you. You might scream or anything.
> 
>  _[Enter Banquo.]_
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Oh, there you are, Banquo. The King's been murdered!
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  You realise I'm still here? You could just have told me, you know. See, I'm taking it quite calmly. _[Flatly]_ Woe. Alas. What, in our house?
> 
>  **Banquo / Adric** :  
>  You're right. You _are_ taking it very calmly.
> 
>  _[Enter Macbeth and Lennox.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  All is but toys. Renown and grace is dead.  
> The wine of life is drawn, and the mere lees  
> Is left this vault to brag of.
> 
>  _[Enter Malcolm and Donalbain.]_
> 
>  **Henry Gordon Jago / Donalbain** :  
>  What is amiss?

Mel silently counted to three on her fingers.

>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Well, this is going to be a tricky one to explain...
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** _[bluntly]_ :  
>  Your royal father's murdered.
> 
>  **Richard Mace / Malcolm** _[striking a pose]_ :  
>  Ohhhhhhhhhh, by whom?
> 
>  **Ben / Lennox** :  
>  Well, it's early days yet, but our prime suspects have got to be the chamberlains. They had the murder weapons, and blood all over their hands and faces. Odds are someone put them up to it. We'll see what we can get out of them under interrogation.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Um. Not very much, I'm afraid. I killed them.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  You did what?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Look! The King's been murdered! I wasn't exactly calm and rational! Of course I killed the obvious suspects on the spot without a trial! Why are you all looking at me like that?
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** _[flatly]_ :  
>  Help me hence. Ho.
> 
>  _[She feigns a swoon, very badly.]_
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Someone get her out of here. She's not taking it at all well. I told you she wouldn't. This is worse than screaming.
> 
>  **Richard Mace / Malcolm** _[aside, striking another pose]_ :  
>  Why do we hold our tongues,  
> That most may claim this argument for ours?
> 
>  **Henry Gordon Jago / Donalbain** _[aside]_ :  
>  What should be spoken here, where our fate,  
> Hid in an auger-hole, may rush and seize us?  
> Let's away. Our tears are not yet brewed.

"What wath all that?" asked baby Peri.

"It doesn't make any _sense_!" agreed little Zoë.

"Well," Jamie said. "What they meant was, um,..." He thought for a bit. "They think whoever murdered the King is going tae try and kill them too, so they don't want people tae notice them."

"Then perhaps they shouldn't stand about with their legs apart talking at the tops of their voices?" Donna suggested.

>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  Look to the lady.
> 
>  _[Jo staggers to her feet.]_
> 
>  **Jo / Porter** :  
>  Don't worry. I'm used to this sort of thing.
> 
>  _[Rather unsteadily, she helps Lady Macbeth up. The two depart, though it is not entirely clear who is supposed to be helping whom.]_
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  Right. Now we need to crack on with the murder investigation. I wonder if we can get Sherlock Holmes?
> 
>  _[He pulls out something that looks like a PDA, and presses a few buttons. The PDA makes the characteristic 'chacka... chacka... plunk' noise of the Hitchhiker's Guide (TV version), and then begins to speak in a quiet measured voice.]_
> 
>  **The Guide** _[in Stephen Fry's voice]_ :  
>  It is a curious fact that, wherever a famous detective goes, people tend to get murdered in a variety of unpleasant ways. Whether the detective stays at home, is sent on a business trip, or decides to take a holiday, every would-be murderer in the vicinity takes their presence as a challenge to perpetrate a suitably baffling crime. One would think that really successful detectives should be obliged to carry red flags in order to alert possible victims to their approach. Until such a time as this happy state of affairs comes to pass, it is advisable to treat visitors showing any indication of detective ability with a degree of caution.
> 
> Persons in the vicinity of This Time Round are accordingly warned to keep an eye open for the following detectives, all of whom have appeared in 'The Captive Sleuths' by Patricia Smith and thus cannot be prevented from entering the Round: Sherlock Holmes. Auguste Dupin. Philip Marlowe. Sam Spade. Lew Archer. Lord Peter Wimsey. Nero Wolfe. Gideon Fell. Hercule Poirot. Miss Marple. Father Brown. Brother Cadfael. Nancy Drew...
> 
>  _[Adric presses another button. The voice cuts off.]_
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  That's a fairly broad selection to be going on with.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Let's go and set up an, um, incident room.
> 
>  _[Exeunt all but Malcolm and Donalbain.]_
> 
>  **Richard Mace / Malcolm** :  
>  What will you do? Let's not consort with them.  
> To show an unfelt sorrow is an office...
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** _[interrupting]_ :  
>  Anyway, they decided to split up and get away as quickly as possible, in case the murderer came after them next. Malcolm set off for England and Donalbain for Ireland.
> 
>  _[Malcolm and Donalbain glower at him, and stalk off.]_

Jamie beckoned Samantha over.

"D'ye think we need this next scene?" he whispered to her.

Samantha glanced over it. "Probably not. It's just a recap."

"Right." He raised his voice. "All right, children. We'll have another short break."

"Why did we see only one man die?" Leela asked. "We were told there were three."

"Perhaps the other ones weren't real people?" Peri suggested. "We never actually saw them."

"If they were not real, then what were they?"

"Balloons made to look like people," Peri said confidently. "And when the bad man put his dagger in them, they went pop."

"There aren't balloons that look like people," said Susan, who'd been following the conversation.

"Are too," Baby Tegan broke in rudely. "I seen one. He was flying an airplane."

"Aren't!"

"Are!"

Samantha hurried over to try and pour oil on troubled waters. Or, failing that, to bang heads together.


	5. Second Interlude

## Interlude 2

Jenny had been right; the place was unmistakeable. Though in shape the building was no different from the other half-dozen light industrial units, the large sign reading ZANY ZOË'S FACTORY OF FUN!!! removed any trace of doubt. It was, Izzy reflected, sadly typical of Zoë's earnest approach to reinventing herself. Rather than hand-lettering the sign, she'd printed it in 900-point purple Comic Sans, and the result looked about as wacky and countercultural as the third Marquess of Salisbury.

Izzy pushed the button on the intercom, and jumped back just in case this was designed to trigger a sidesplitting practical joke. Instead, Zoë's voice answered.

"Who's there?"

"Izzy," Izzy said.

"I'll come down."

And in a few moments, a pale, fragile-looking and not in the least zany Zoë opened the door.

"Come in," she said. "Follow me and put your feet exactly where I do."

She led Izzy in, crept crabwise around the edge of the lobby, and ascended the stairs, counting under her breath the while and skipping steps apparently at random. At the top, she opened the first door on the right — using a rubber glove to avoid touching the metal handle — and waved Izzy through it. They found themselves in a futuristic waiting room, decorated in shades of off-white, and containing cube-like chairs, brick-shaped sofas, spiral-legged coffee tables, an abstract sculpture apparently made entirely of chrome-plated wires, a food machine, and a selection of magazines with dates ranging between 2015 and 2120.

Isobel was lying on one of the sofas, looking positively green.

"Oh, hello," she said. "Forgive me not getting up. I think we must have eaten something yesterday that disagreed with us."

"She's not joking," Zoë said. She slumped into a chair, which blew a raspberry. "Neither of us has touched a bite today. I don't think I'll ever be able to look at a jellied eel again."

"Dying of a surfeit of lampreys?" Izzy got down to business. "I want to know what you and Jamie are up to."

"Nothing. Isn't that right, Isobel?"

"Quite right. We couldn't do anything even if we wanted. Look at us."

"Very well, then. What's Jamie up to?"

"I don't know the details." Zoë cudgelled her memory. "He had a complete edition of Shakespeare, and I think he was planning to read to the children. He gave us the slip and went off to make some plan with Samantha and Gia."

"That makes sense. Next question. Why can't I get back into the nursery?"

Zoë shrugged. "No idea."

"And you don't know where Victoria's got to?"

"No. Why? Is there something wrong?"

"You mean something other than Jamie trying to tell the toddlers stories?" Izzy got to her feet. "I'll see myself out. Unless either of you want to come with me to try and set this thing right."

Isobel groaned.

"I don't think I could risk it," she said.

"Me neither," Zoë added. "If I happened to make any sudden movements I think something terrible might happen."

"Thanks for nothing, then."

Izzy departed from Zoë's Fun Factory less puzzled, but no less worried, than before. If only those nitwits had thought to warn her in the morning, rather than lying around nursing their delicate stomachs, this whole fiasco might have been avoided. She slammed the door, which made a variety of allegedly humorous slapstick noises, and considered her next move. For want of anything better to do, she set out for the crèche again.

*

"SITUATION. GREEN." the Dalek reiterated.

Izzy raised her eyebrows. "Then accompany me inside."

Once more, she stepped through the door. And once more, she was somewhere else, and the Dalek was nowhere to be seen.

*

This time, she knew immediately where she was — not from anything she saw, which was precious little in the mist, but from the sense of paranoia that inexorably crept over her. She was in the Memorial Gardens.

The problem people had with the Memorial Gardens wasn't with the carefully planned flower beds, the rigidly formal gravel paths, the lawns so flat you could calibrate a spirit level with them, or the topiary that looked as if it was made of cast iron rather than yew. It was just that whenever you went in there, you felt watched — as if every leaf, every blade of grass, the very sky itself, were were all keeping a close eye on you and taking notes.

Izzy, determined to make her stay as short as possible, walked briskly along the deserted paths, glancing from side to side. Already the atmosphere in the Gardens was beginning to affect her. Within half-a-dozen paces she was convinced that there was someone spying on her from a nearby faux-Grecian temple, who ducked out of sight whenever she turned in that direction. And were those sounds an echo of her own footsteps, or was she being followed?

Ahead of Izzy, trickling water could be heard, and a circular fountain was beginning to become discernable through the mist. It looked as if there was a statue beside it, a graceful nymph carved in white marble, her hands over her face. A Weeping Angel? That seemed unlikely. They never went near the Gardens. Presumably they found the sensation of being under surveillance the whole time even more intolerable than humans did.

Then the nymph looked up.

"Izzy!" she said, and burst into tears.

"Victoria!" Izzy covered the distance between them at a run. "Whatever are you doing out here? You'll catch your death of cold."

"I'm looking for Jamie," Victoria explained sorrowfully. "He's up to some sort of mischief. But I wasn't well this morning and I got to the Round late and now I can't find him or Gia or Zoë or Isobel or anyone!"

Fortunately, Izzy had got comforting a sobbing Victoria down to a fine art. Although she'd never had occasion to use her technique on the full-sized version before, it seemed to be no less effective.

"There, there," she said, hugging Victoria. "I've seen Zoë and Isobel."

"You have? How were they?"

"To be entirely honest with you, not brilliant. I think they had the same thing as you, only worse. Something to do with jellied eels, from what they told me."

"I'm not surprised." Victoria wiped her eyes. "I didn't eat as many of those eels as they did. Still, I've nearly recovered now, so perhaps they'll be feeling better too."

"Well, we can go and see them later. But for now we're going to the Round."

*

"Two Lucozades," said François. "François give you medical advice on house: You drink much more Lucozade, you turning orange. Any luck with skirt-boy or zany girl?"

"I found Zoë, but it didn't do any good." Izzy slumped in her chair and wished she could risk drinking something stronger.

"Jamie's reading Shakespeare to the little children, we think," Victoria said. She sipped at her own Lucozade and grimaced. "Do you really enjoy drinking this?"

"It gives you energy, and heaven knows we need it," Izzy said. "I don't know what Jamie's managed to set off at the creche. I can't even get in. Every time I try I end up somewhere completely different."

A hand fell on her shoulder. She looked up into the face of the last person she'd expected to see.

"Sounds to me like you need some technical assistance, love," William Shakespeare said.


	6. Act 3

## Act 3

Samantha deftly separated little Nyssa and little Adric.

"Now," she said. "Nyssa, you sit on the cushion with Rose, and leave Adric be. And if I catch you pulling his hair again, I'll take you outside and you won't hear the rest of the story."

Once again, Jamie thanked his lucky stars that it was Samantha who'd agreed to come, and not any of the others. By now Zoë would almost certainly be embroiled in a battle of wits with her unscrupulous younger self, Isobel would have been reduced to trying to keep the children quiet by bribing them with sweets, and Victoria— well, if her toddler self was any guide, Victoria would now be huddling under a blanket, peeping out every now and again to see if it was safe.

"Are you all sitting comfortably?" he asked, and let the play resume before anyone could tell him they weren't.

>  _[Act 3, Scene 1. The palace at Forres. Enter Banquo and Ace.]_
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  Any luck with hiring a first-rate detective?
> 
>  **Ace** :  
>  Um, not a lot. Most of them don't really want to come to a windswept Scottish castle with no indoor plumbing.
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  That wouldn't stop Brother Cadfael.
> 
>  **Ace** _[glancing through a sheaf of rejection letters]_ :  
>  His abbot says he can't be spared.
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  Well, try and get hold of whoever you can.
> 
>  **Ace** :  
>  Right you are.
> 
>  _[She leaves. We hear the sound of jet engines, followed by a splattering noise. Detective Inspector Sam Tyler pops into existence, dressed as the captain of the guard.]_
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  What the...! Did you see how fast that was going?
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  No, but I can probably work it out. 2006 minus 1973, 1973 minus 1040, divide... multiply... Assume an original collision speed of 25 miles an hour... I think, to send you back this far in time, impact would have to be at a speed of 706.81 recurring miles per hour. _[He thinks a little more.]_ Plus or minus 0.75, of course.
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  Are you telling me I've been run over by the Thrust SSC?
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  What's a Thrust...? Never mind. I'll have a word with Ace. Anyway, now you're here, perhaps you could give us your opinion on a murder case.
> 
>  _[He hands over a prochronistic police file. DI Tyler leafs through it.]_
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  I take it you've got a suspect already.
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  I think Macbeth probably did it. It happened in his castle and he was the major beneficiary.
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  But you haven't actually got any evidence against him.
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  That's why we've called you in. We need to get some proof.
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  Then what? Trial by ordeal? Combat? Here I was thinking DCI Hunt was primitive. I don't suppose you could send me back to 1973?
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  I think you'll have to wait until the end of the story. It looks as if the Book's managed to find a suitable rôle for you.
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  Thanks a bunch.
> 
>  _[Sennet sounded. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth as Queen, Lennox, Ross, lords and attendants.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Tonight we hold a solemn supper, sir,  
>  And I'll request your presence.
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  Of course, my lord.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Are you busy this afternoon?
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  I thought I'd go riding. Um. Except I can't ride. Can't I have a motorbike or something instead?
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  No, ye'll still go riding. I'm sure the Book will work something out.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Well, whatever you do, make sure you're back in time for dinner.
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  Don't worry, I will be.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** _[suspiciously casually]_ :  
>  Goes Fleance with you?
> 
>  **Adric / Banquo** :  
>  Ay, my good lord.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Good luck. See you later.
> 
>  _[Exit Banquo.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Right, you lot. You can do what you like until seven. Off you go.
> 
>  _[Exeunt all except Macbeth and a Servant.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Attend those men our pleasure?
> 
>  **Frobisher** :  
>  They are, my lord, without the palace gate.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Bring them before us.
> 
>  _[Exit Servant.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Banquo knows something. Or suspects something. I'm sure of it. Not to mention that he was the only other person to see the witches. Still, dead men tell no tales.
> 
>  _[Enter Servant and two Murderers.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Good. _[To Frobisher]_ Wait outside until I call for you.
> 
>  _[Exit Servant.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Was it not yesterday we spoke together?
> 
>  **Slaar / First Murderer** :  
>  It wassss, sssso pleasssse your Highnesssss.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Both of you  
>  Know Banquo was your enemy.
> 
>  **Ssard / Second Murderer** :  
>  True, my lord. Though, to be frank, we'll kill anyone if the price isss right. Ssssss.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I want him taken out. Discreetly. So it doesn't look as if I had anything to do with it.
> 
>  **Ssard / Second Murderer** :  
>  We ssshall, my lord,  
>  Perform what you command ussss.
> 
>  **Slaar / First Murderer** :  
>  Though our livessss...
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Splendid. I'll show you a good place where you can ambush him. By the way, if his son happens to be with him, deal with him too.
> 
>  **Slaar / First Murderer** :  
>  We are ressssolved, my lord. Sssssss.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I'll call upon you straight. Abide within.
> 
>  _[Exeunt Murderers.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  It is concluded. Banquo, thy soul's flight,  
>  If it find heaven, must find it out tonight.
> 
>  _[Act 3, Scene 2. The palace. Enter Lady Macbeth.]_
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Where's my idiot husband got to? It's very annoying. I can't turn my back on him for five minutes.
> 
>  _[Enter Macbeth, looking twitchy.]_
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Oh, there you are. You've been skulking again. Stop it. It won't do you any good.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I told you that murdering the King was a lousy idea. But would you listen? Oh, no, it was 'infirm of purpose' this and 'screw your courage to the sticking-place' that. And now you're beginning to get edgy, aren't you? Hearing the footsteps behind you, getting a little closer each day...
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Shut up! You can't go to the feast looking like that. Sort yourself out.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  All right. As long as you do the same. And make sure you're very attentive to Banquo. We need to make sure he doesn't get suspicious.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Banquo... You're up to something, aren't you?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Best if you don't know until after it's all over.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  I just hope whatever hare-brained scheme you've cooked up is better thought out than your usual botches.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Thou marvell'st at my words; but hold thee still.  
>  Things bad begun make strong themselves by ill.  
>  So prithee go with me.
> 
>  _[Exeunt.]_
> 
>  _[Act 3, Scene 3. A park near the palace. Enter three murderers.]_
> 
>  **Slaar / First Murderer** :  
>  But who did bid thee join with usssss?
> 
>  **Nyssa / Third Murderer** _[reciting as if by rote]_ :  
>  Macbeth.
> 
>  **Ssard / Second Murderer** :  
>  He needssss not our missstrussst, since he deliversssss  
>  Our officesss and what we have to do  
>  To the direction jusssst.
> 
>  **Nyssa / Third Murderer** :  
>  Hark, I hear horses.
> 
>  _[Enter Banquo and Fleance with a torch. Adric / Banquo is astride a hobby horse trying to keep hold of both the handlebars and the torch, while Zack / Fleance follows him knocking two halves of a coconut shell together.]_
> 
>  **Slaar / First Murderer** :  
>  Ssssstand to 't.
> 
>  _[He strikes out the torch. Darkness.]_
> 
>  **Adric's voice** :  
>  Run for it, Zack! Aargh!
> 
>  _[The coconut shells are heard accelerating away at an impossibly high speed._
> 
>  _Light returns. Adric is lying there, very dead, with a chisel sticking out of his back.]_
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Hang on. Ye've really killed him.
> 
>  **Nyssa / Third Murderer** _[unconvincingly]_ :  
>  I didn't mean to. _[To Slaar]_ You shouldn't have struck out the light.
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  What's that got tae do wi' anything?
> 
>  **Nyssa / Third Murderer** _[all sweet innocence]_ :  
>  Well, obviously, I wasn't aiming to kill, but it was dark and I must have hit something vital by accident.
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Ye realise we need his ghost in the next scene?
> 
>  **Nyssa / Third Murderer** :  
>  Then you'll have to improvise. Good thing, too. Keeps you on your toes.

"Back in a jiff," Samantha said, leaving the room.

>  **Nyssa / Third Murderer** _[reciting again]_ :  
>  There's but one down. The son is fled.
> 
>  **Slaar / First Murderer** :  
>  Well, let'sss away and sssay how much is done.
> 
>  _[Exeunt, with Banquo's body.]_

Samantha returned and dumped a white sheet in Jamie's arms.

"I've even cut out two holes for the eyes," she said triumphantly.

Jamie gave it a dubious look. "Are ye sure..."

"Oh, just get on with it, you wally."

The toddlers giggled as Jamie reluctantly draped himself in the sheet.

>  _[Act 3, Scene 4. A hall in the palace. Banquet prepared. Enter Macbeth as King, Lady Macbeth as Queen, Ross, Lennox, Lords, and attendants.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Right. Sit down, everyone. I'll circulate.
> 
>  _[Everyone except Macbeth sits.]_
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Pronounce it for me, sir, to all our friends,  
>  For my heart speaks they are welcome.
> 
>  _[The First Murderer sticks his head in at the door and waves at Macbeth.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Excuse me a moment.
> 
>  _[He crosses to the door.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  How did it go? Did you get Banquo?
> 
>  **Slaar / First Murderer** :  
>  He'sss dead all right. Ssssss.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  And Fleance?
> 
>  **Slaar / First Murderer** :  
>  He esssssscaped. Ssssorry.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Oh, blazes. Why can no-one ever do anything properly? Go away. I'll settle up later.
> 
>  _[Exit First Murderer.]_
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  You can stop the circulating now. Everyone's waiting for you to give the toast.
> 
>  _[Enter the Ghost of Banquo, and sits in Macbeth's place. In this case, the Ghost looks suspiciously like Jamie in a white sheet; as when he did a self-insert before, he's semitransparent.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Now good digestion wait on appetite,  
>  And health on both.  
>  It's a pity Banquo isn't here. I hope no harm has come to him.
> 
>  **Ben / Lennox** :  
>  Have a seat, your highness.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Where?
> 
>  **Ben / Lennox** :  
>  Here, my good lord.
> 
>  _[Turlough / Macbeth goes to sit, and sees Banquo's Ghost for the first time. He covers his mouth and shakes, though whether with horror or hysterical laughter is not clear.]_
> 
>  **Ben / Lennox** :  
>  What is't that moves your highness?
> 
>  _[Turlough / Macbeth makes strange whimpering noises.]_
> 
>  **Ben / Lennox** :  
>  What, my good lord?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** _[with a supreme effort]_ :  
>  Thou canst not say I did it. Never shake  
>  Thy gory locks at me.
> 
>  **Jamie / Ghost** _[somewhat muffled under the sheet]_ :  
>  I'm not. You can't even see my hair under this.
> 
>  _[Turlough / Macbeth loses it again.]_
> 
>  **Brigadier / Ross** _[rising]_ :  
>  Gentlemen, rise. His highness is not well.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  No! No! Everyone, please remain calm and fasten your— I mean, stay in your seats. He'll get over it in a moment.
> 
>  _[She speaks apart with Macbeth.]_
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  What the hell d'you think you're playing at?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Can't you see him? I defy you to keep a straight face. _[He giggles insanely]_ Teeheeheehee...
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Shame itself,  
>  Why do you make such faces? When all's done  
>  You look but on a stool.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  If charnel-houses and our graves must send  
>  Those that we bury back, our monuments  
>  Shall be the maws of kites. Wibble.
> 
>  _[The Ghost disappears.]_
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** _[slapping him]_ :  
>  What, quite unmanned in folly?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  That really hurt. Is this what you call fun,  
>  To slap me far too hard? The time has been  
>  That when the brains were out, the man would die,

Little Nyssa nodded sagely.

>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  And there an end. But now they rise again  
>  With twenty mortal murders on their crowns,  
>  And push us from our stools. This is more strange  
>  Than such a murder is.

"It's just zombies," little Anji said dismissively. "My fwiend Dave says you can use black pepper and sea salt on them."

"Or fire extinguishers," suggested Liz.

"Or fire," said Leela.

>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Look. Everyone's staring at you.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Sorry, everyone. I just had a funny turn there. Come, love and health to  
>  all, then I'll sit down. _[To Frobisher]_ Give me a double Scotch.
> 
>  _[Enter the Ghost, who stands just behind him.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I drink to th' general joy of th'whole table,  
>  And to our dear friend Banquo, whom we miss.  
>  Would he were here.
> 
>  _[They all drink. Macbeth looks round for Frobisher to take his glass, sees the Ghost, and double-takes.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Go. Away. Whatever it is you're selling, I'm not buying any.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** _[addressing everyone else]_ :  
>  Please remain in your seats and do not panic.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Take any shape but that, and my firm nerves  
>  Shall never tremble. But Jamie in a sheet!  
>  I fail to see how anyone could find  
>  That anything but comic. Go away  
>  Before I lose composure once again.
> 
>  _[The Ghost disappears.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Hey, why's everyone getting ready to leave?
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  You just told them to. And you've really ruined the party atmosphere.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I don't know how the rest of you could stand seeing that.
> 
>  **Brigadier / Ross** :  
>  Seeing what?
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  I pray you, speak not. He grows worse and worse.  
>  Question enrages him. At once, good night.  
>  Stand not upon the order of your going,  
>  But make your way toward the exit chutes  
>  Located at the rear end of the hall.
> 
>  **Ben / Lennox** :  
>  Good night, and I hope he's feeling better tomorrow.
> 
>  _[Exeunt Lords.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  It will have blood, they say. Blood will have blood.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  I know I keep saying this, but will you please pull yourself together?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Jamie in a sheet. That's almost as good as Jamie in a ballgown. _[He giggles.]_ Right. Right. I'm over it. Macduff wasn't here tonight, was he?
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  No. Did you invite him?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Not as such.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Then send for him, and we'll see if he's loyal enough to show up.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Bet he won't. And while I'm at it, I'm going to see if those witches can tell me any more. Not to mention that the captain of the guard keeps giving me funny looks.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Of course he's giving you funny looks. He's the Master.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  He isn't the Master.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  How d'you know?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I asked him. He said it's just a coincidence that they look like each other. Anyway, the Master calls himself Harry Saxon and this fellow's name is Sam Tyler. Probably he's related to Rose and she got him the job as a favour.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  You haven't a clue, have you? 'Sam Tyler'. Rearrange the letters.
> 
>  _[A longish pause.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Oh no.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Exactly.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I'll find a way to get him out of here;  
>  Perhaps I'll bump him off. For mine own good  
>  All causes shall give way. I am in blood  
>  Stepped in so far that, should I wade no more,  
>  Returning were as tedious as go o'er.  
>  Strange things I have in head that will to hand,  
>  Which must be acted ere they may be scanned.

"He's being silly," said little Vicki dismissively. "They didn't have mind scanners then."

"He doesn't mean that," said Romana. "He means he wants to do the funny fings before anyone knows what they are."

"What, even him? How can you do something without knowing what it is?"

Romana shrugged. "Look at Jo. Half the time she hasn't a clue what she's doing — before, during or after."

>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  You lack the season of all natures, sleep.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Come, we'll to sleep. My strange and self-abuse—
> 
>  _[Tegan collapses laughing. Turlough blushes.]_
> 
>  **Tegan** :  
>  Hah! Serves you right for that crack about me earlier.
> 
>  **Turlough** :  
>  Crack, eh? Nudge nudge. Wink wink. Say no more.
> 
>  _[Tegan clouts him upside the head. Exeunt.]_

"What was she laughing about?" asked little Rose.

"I'll explain later," Samantha lied.

>  _[Act 3, Scene 5. The blasted heath. Thunder. Enter the three Witches meeting Hecate.]_
> 
>  **Movie-Susan** :  
>  Why, how now, Hecate? You look angerly.
> 
>  **Izzy / Hecate** :  
>  Have I not reason, beldams as you are?  
>  Saucy and over-bold, how... did... you...
> 
>  _[She looks around, slightly dazed.]_
> 
> Oh my. I'm in the story. I'm actually in the story. Are you there, Jamie?
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Aye. Look, Izzy, it's jist a wee bit o' fun, and ye can see that everything's well under control here.

Samantha leaned over his shoulder.

>  **Samantha / Narrator** :  
>  Hecate put one hand on her hip and pretended to be a teapot.
> 
>  _[Izzy suddenly finds herself in a teapot pose.]_
> 
>  **Izzy** _[angrily un-teapotting herself]_ :  
>  When I get out of here, you're going to be in so much trouble.
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Aye, but ye're no' getting out until ye've played your part. Got that?
> 
>  **Izzy** :   
>  Play my part? How? Sorry, I haven't been in one of these things before.
> 
>  **Jackie** :  
>  Just relax and let the words come.
> 
>  **Izzy / Hecate** _[closes her eyes, breathes out]_ :  
>  I am for th'air. This night I'll spend  
>  Unto a dismal and a fatal end.  
>  He shall spurn fate, scorn death, and bear  
>  His hopes 'bove wisdom, grace and fear;  
>  And you all know security  
>  Is mortals' chiefest enemy.
> 
>  _[The Nokia ringtone is heard. Izzy looks puzzled, then pulls a mobile telephone out of her trouser pocket.]_
> 
>  **Izzy** _[looking at the telephone in surprise]_ :  
>  But I don't have a mobile. Where did this come from? _[She answers it.]_ Hello? Yes, it all seems to be working. Yes, Hecate. Tell her I'll be right back.
> 
>  _[She puts the phone away.]_
> 
>  **Izzy** :  
>  Hark, I am called! My little spirit, see,  
>  Sits in a foggy cloud and stays for me.
> 
>  _[A blue glow surrounds her. She rises into the sky and vanishes.]_
> 
>  **Movie-Susan** :  
>  Come, let's make haste. She'll soon be back again
> 
>  _[Act 3, Scene 6. The palace at Forres. Enter Lennox and another Lord.]_
> 
>  **Ben / Lennox** :  
>  Well, of course, I wouldn't say a word against Macbeth. A strong king, that's what this country needs. _[He coughs noisily.]_ Changing the subject completely, d'you happen to know how Macduff's doing these days?
> 
>  **Harry / Lord** :  
>  He's in England, trying to get help from their King and the Earl of Northumberland.
> 
>  **Ben / Lennox** :  
>  Be a funny thing, wouldn't it, if he happened to invade? Someone should let him know what things are like up here.
> 
>  **Harry / Lord** :  
>  Yes, I'm sure he'd find that very interesting.
> 
>  _[Exeunt.]_

The little Tenth Doctor jumped up and down. "This is the wonderfullest stowy ever! Will Shakespeare is my favouwite witer! It's bwilliant!"

"That's nice," Samantha said politely.

"He says that about every story he listens to," Baby Donna pointed out.

Samantha looked over the toddlers. "Yeah, but most of you do seem to be enjoying this." She turned to Jamie. "What's eating you all of a sudden?"

"Did ye no' see Izzy? She kens we're here. If she catches us..."

"What if she does? I never knew anyone like you for fretting. Look, we finish the play, we tidy up, we get out, no-one would even know we'd been here. Didn't Izzy say how well you managed the kids last time?"

"Zoë said that was just to get at her," Jamie said thoughtfully. "I'm thinking now maybe she had a point."


	7. Third Interlude

## Interlude 3

"It worked, then?" Victoria asked.

"Of course it worked." William Shakespeare sounded amused at the thought that it might not have. "I can cast who I like in my own plays, can't I?"

Victoria turned to Izzy. "So how did it go?"

"Well, I got in there all right. And yes, Jamie and Samantha are telling the toddlers 'Mac—'" She caught herself. "Sorry, I shouldn't say its name, should I? Anyway, I spoke to them both."

"Can we stop them?"

"Stop them." Izzy shook her head. "Of course, that's what we should be doing. Do you have any ideas, Mr. Shakespeare?"

"Please, call me Will. But why should I help you stop a performance of one of my plays?"

"Because Jamie could get hurt!" Victoria pleaded. "And Samantha."

The Bard drummed his fingers on the table. "I don't think either of you could stop it, love," he said. "It'd be like trying to hold back a river with your hands. But if you go with the flow, you might be able to influence it." He turned to Izzy. "You were Hecate, weren't you? Act Three, Scene Five?"

"That's right," Izzy said.

"You'll be on again in Act Four, Scene One. That's probably your best chance to do what you can."

"Can you put me in as well?" Victoria asked. "I mean, if there are more of us, wouldn't that help?"

"Probably. If you can rope in a couple of friends, that'd be even better. I've got just the parts for you."

"I'll go and talk to them right away," Victoria said, rising to her feet.

Shakespeare held up a hand. "You'll have to tell me their names first."

"Zoë Heriot and Isobel Watkins."

She waited while he wrote the names down, and then set off at a run.

"Thank you — Will," Izzy said. "I'd better get along after her."

"One other thing, love. If you want to fight magic, use magic. Not machines."

Izzy nodded, thanked him again, and took her leave. François left a decent interval before coming to collect the empty glasses.

"You fancying streaky ginger girl?" he asked. "Because François warn you, she not interested." He tapped his nose. "Batting for other side."

Shakespeare smiled faintly. "'Twas ever thus. Good lookers in their prime / Are either gay, or else they're Lords of Time."

*

It seemed that Victoria's guess was right. By the time she and Izzy had reached the industrial estate, Zoë was much more her usual uppity self.

"This is the craziest and most irrational plan I have ever heard," was her first comment.

"It made sense when Mr. Shakespeare explained it," Victoria said.

Zoë gave her a disdainful look. "I see no reason to modify my initial assessment."

"It's the only plan I've got," said Izzy. "And we don't have very much time. Can you get your hands on the props?"

"Oh, Izzy!" Zoë was obviously feeling well enough to use her exasperated I'm-cleverer-than-you voice. "Why do you think this is called a Factory of Fun? I should have everything we need in stock. Computer: Locate the last delivery from the Boffo Novelty Shop."

"Main-Stores-Aisle-3-Level-1," a flat computer voice replied from thin air.

Zoë looked at Isobel.

"I suppose we've got to do this," she said. "Since Victoria helpfully signed us up without asking us first. Do you feel up to it?"

"Oh, I think so," Isobel replied. "As long as I don't have to eat anything. How are you feeling now, Victoria?"

Victoria raised her eyebrows. "You feel the need to ask me that? I didn't have as many of those eels as you two. In my opinion you were both guzzling them in a wholly unladylike manner. I'm probably in better shape than either of you."

"Fine," Zoë said. "Come with me."

She led the other three back down the stairs, and into a large storeroom full of steel racks laden with boxes, barrels, vacuum-sealed packages and suitcases. Without hesitation, she crossed to a crate indistinguishable from a dozen others and lifted the lid.

"Here we are," she said, throwing rubber spiders and squeaky toy rats onto the floor. "Green blusher, pointy hats, black cloaks, folding broomsticks. Just what we need."

Victoria draped a cloak around her shoulders.

"We'll look awfully silly if this doesn't happen the way we expect," she said nervously.

Isobel settled one of the hats on her head, and examined her appearance in a hand mirror.

"It's a terrible perpetuation of gender sterotypes," she said. "But I suppose we've got to be a maiden, a mother and a crone. Any volunteers?"


	8. Act 4

## Act 4

"Have you checked the next bit?" Jamie asked.

"We're going to need Banquo's ghost again," Samantha warned him, and handed over the familiar white sheet. "Give me the book and I'll get things going while you're changing."

>  _[The palace at Forres. Sam Tyler is standing on the battlements while the camera swoops around him.]_
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** _(vo)_ :  
>  My name is Sam Tyler. I keep getting killed, and each time I wake up in the past. Am I mad? In a coma? Or somehow still walking around after I've died?
> 
>  _[David Bowie's "Dead Man Walking" (transcribed for bagpipes) plays, over a montage of shots of Sam talking to people in various parts of the castle, giving Macbeth and his wife suspicious looks, and trying to perform a forensic investigation of the place where Banquo was killed. As the song comes to an end, Sam is seen in a disused storeroom, scratching his notes on the floor with a knife. Nyssa is at the door, dressed as a Scots peasant girl and looking at him with an "I pity the crackpot" sort of expression.]_
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  No witnesses. No bloodstained clothing. No fingerprints. No tyre marks. No psychological profiling. No DNA matching. No CCTV footage. How are you supposed to **prove** anything in this time?
> 
>  **Nyssa** _[affecting a Scots accent, which she does very badly]_ :  
>  I'm very sorry I couldnae be any more help to ye, master.
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  I mean, when Banquo was found murdered, I was on the scene straight away, and I still couldn't make out what happened. It's as if one of these mediaeval thugs somehow managed to pinpoint and destroy every last bit of evidence.
> 
>  _[Behind him, Nyssa smiles quietly to herself.]_
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  Oh yes, everyone **says** Macbeth is as mad as a lorryload of ferrets, but that isn't going to stand up in court. And if I try to use any twentieth-century detective techniques I'll probably be burned as a witch.
> 
>  **Nyssa** :  
>  I could have—
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  No, that's all right. It isn't your fault. Sorry I dragged you into all this, but I had to tell someone, and you've got a kind face. I know you don't believe half of what I'm saying. Honestly, I really do come from a place where there are wonders you couldn't begin to imagine, and I've got to face the possibility that I'll never get home.
> 
>  _[Nyssa's expression flickers slightly, but she keeps up the 'naïve peasant girl' act.]_
> 
>  **Nyssa** :  
>  Indeed, master, tae be sure ye ken well how tae turn the heid of a simple   
>  crofter's daughter.
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  Oh, dear. Cai- Cay-
> 
>  **Nyssa** :  
>  Caoimhe.
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  Keavy, listen to me. I can't let anyone get too close to me. Back where I come from, there's...
> 
>  **Nyssa** :  
>  Ye mean ye've already got a wife at home? Ach, all ye men are alike. _[She wipes away an imaginary tear.]_
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  I didn't mean... Look, you'd better get back home before your family miss  
>  you.
> 
>  **Nyssa** :  
>  Aye, master. _[She adds, sotto voce, in her normal accent:]_ And how I stopped myself depolarising every protein in your body I shall never know.
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  What?
> 
>  **Nyssa** _[fake Scots again]_ :  
>  Nothing, master.
> 
>  _[She leaves. DI Tyler throws down his knife, stands, and stares at his handiwork.]_
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  I haven't come up with a single clue.  
>  And all my yesterdays have lighted fools  
>  The way to dusty death. Another thing.  
>  How can I get dispatches from my time  
>  When telephones and radios don't exist?
> 
>  **Samantha / Narrator** :   
>  Try sticking your ear in a seashell, wack.
> 
>  _[Sam jumps and looks around, trying to work out where the voice is coming from.]_
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  What? Who are you? What's going on?
> 
>  **Samantha / Narrator** :  
>  That's just what I was going to ask you. You're not part of the story.
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  All right. Now I know I'm going off my head. _[He begins shouting.]_ You're all figments of my imagination! You don't exist!
> 
>  _[He holds his clenched fists above his head, takes a deep breath and gives the next four words everything he's got, while the camera spins around him again.]_
> 
> I! Deny! This! Reality!
> 
>  _[Story Space wavers for a moment, then reconstitutes itself.]_
> 
>  **Samantha / Narrator** :  
>  You're a nutter. Go away.
> 
>  **Sam Tyler** :  
>  I'm dreaming. I must be. _[He wanders off, muttering:]_ Not poppy, nor mandragora, nor all the drowsy syrups of the world...

"What's the delay?" Jamie asked from under his sheet.

"I dunno," Samantha said. "Turn your back for a minute and the story's full of coppers who think the whole thing's happening because they had cheese on toast before going to bed."

"What if he's right?" little Polly asked, looking quite upset at the thought. "What if we are all in his dream and he wakes up and we go pop like balloons?"

"Because there's no such thing as balloons that look like people," Susan reiterated.

"Look," Samantha said, before baby Tegan could renew that argument. "This isn't one of this bloke's dreams, because you were all here before he turned up in the story, all right? Anyway, if you want to hear the rest, keep your ears open and your gobs shut."

>  _[Act 4, Scene 1. A cavern. In the middle, a boiling cauldron. Thunder. Enter the three Witches.]_
> 
>  **Movie-Susan** :  
>  Round about the cauldron go,  
>  In the poisoned entrails throw.  
>  Toad that under cold stone  
>  Days and nights has thirty-one  
>  Sweltered venom sleeping got,  
>  Boil thou first i'th' charmed pot.
> 
>  _[She produces a soap bar shaped like a frog, and tosses it into the  
>  cauldron. It froths promisingly.]_

"If the frog's her familiar, why did she throw him in the cauldron?" Martha asked.

"Well, perhaps that particular frog isn't her familiar," Samantha temporised. "Now shut your trap and listen, like I said."

>  **All** :  
>  Double, double, toil and trouble,  
>  Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
> 
>  **Jackie** _[tossing in random props]_ :  
>  Fillet of a rubber snake,  
>  In the cauldron boil and bake;  
>  Cybermats and living fat,  
>  Slime of Rutan, vampire bat,  
>  Spectrox, Reset, Vraxoin,  
>  Giant rat's tail and Reaper's wing  
>  For a charm of powerful trouble  
>  Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.
> 
>  **All** :  
>  Double, double, toil and trouble,  
>  Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
> 
>  _[The cauldron is now beginning to gurgle quite alarmingly.]_
> 
>  **Sarah** _[also tossing in random props]_ :  
>  Bubblewrap that's painted green,  
>  Tactless note to English Queen,  
>  Craft materials from the school,  
>  Nitro-nine and rocket fuel,  
>  Spiders done with CGI,  
>  Effluent-mutated fly,   
>  Liquid ice and Doctor's wig,   
>  Head of Dalek-enslaved pig,   
>  Multi-purpose greenish slime,  
>  Watch that's not for telling time,  
>  Add a dash of vintage wine.  
>  Finish off with something scrawled-on  
>  Because it nearly rhymes with 'cauldron'.
> 
>  _[She throws in a chunk of Berlin Wall, which has 'Bad Wolf' written on it.]_
> 
>  **All** :  
>  Double, double, toil and trouble,  
>  Fire burn, and cauldron bubble.
> 
>  _[By now the cauldron is humming ominously. Multicoloured bubbles rise from it.]_
> 
>  **Jackie** :  
>  Cool it with a baboon's blood,  
>  Then the charm is thick and good.  
>  _[She looks puzzled.]_ Is my character meant to be from Yorkshire?
> 
>  _[She pours in a bottle of brown liquid. The three witches peer nervously into the cauldron, which is emitting horrible groaning noises as if under immense pressure.]_
> 
>  **Movie-Susan** :  
>  Is it supposed to do that?
> 
>  **Sarah** :  
>  Don't ask me.
> 
>  **Jackie** :  
>  This reminds me of the time Rose talked me into making toffee. We ended up having to throw the saucepan away.
> 
>  _[Enter Hecate and the other three Witches: Victoria (made-up with green blusher), Isobel (who has tried to make her figure more mumsy by shoving a cushion up her blouse), and the older Zoë from 'Fear of the Daleks'.]_

Baby Zoë's face took on a look of intense concentration.

>  **Izzy / Hecate** :  
>  O, well done! I commend your pains,  
>  And everyone shall share i'th' gains.
> 
>  **Victoria** :  
>  Are you all right, Jamie?
> 
>  **Samantha / Narrator** :  
>  It's me. And we've got this whole thing well under control, so there's no need to panic. You lot should be doing a song and dance routine next, and frankly I can't wait to see what a disaster it turns out to be.
> 
>  **Izzy / Hecate** :  
>  Not according to this chit I have here.
> 
>  _  
> [She produces a tatty piece of paper, and reads from it.]_
> 
> "To whom it may concern, the musical numbers in 'Macbeth' were written by Thomas Middleton and you can leave them out for all I care. Signed, Will Shakespeare."
> 
> Right, let's get this potion finished.
> 
>  **Jackie** _[checking a list]_ :  
>  We're up to three ounces of red-haired wench. Did any of you happen to bring one?
> 
>  _[They all look at Izzy.]_
> 
>  **Izzy** :  
>  You're not putting me in there. We'll just have to make do with...
> 
>  _[She produces a small bottle, reads its label, and raises her eyebrows.]_
> 
> With Doctor McTavish's Universal Horse Physick And Limescale Remover.
> 
>  _[She empties the bottle into the cauldron. The groaning gets worse. Much worse.]_
> 
>  **Sarah** :  
>  Get down!
> 
>  _[They dive for cover. The cauldron erupts like a volcano; fireworks go off all around it.]_
> 
>  **Jackie** :  
>  Hmmm. I still think that time with the toffee was worse.
> 
>  _[As the brew dies down, they pull themselves to their feet - except Isobel, who stays where she is.]_
> 
>  **Zoë** :  
>  What's the matter?
> 
>  **Isobel** :  
>  I don't think those eels have quite given up yet.
> 
>  **Zoë** :  
>  Oh.
> 
>  **Isobel** :  
>  I'm going to sit quietly over here for a bit until I feel better.

Baby Zoë, her face still set in an expression of concentrated cunning, crawled over to whisper in the little Delgado Master's ear. Then she returned and sat at the front, now doing her best attempt at an innocent smile.

>  **Jackie** :  
>  By the pricking of my thumbs,  
>  Something wicked this way comes.
> 
>  _[Enter Macbeth.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  How now, you secret, black and midnight hags,  
>  What is't you do?
> 
>  **Sarah** :  
>  I've been wondering that ever since Act One, Scene One.
> 
>  **Jackie** :  
>  Look, we're going to put on a show for you, okay?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I suppose I might as well watch it now I'm here.
> 
>  **Movie-Susan** :  
>  Here goes, then.
> 
>  _[She produces something that looks like a remote control with black tape over the manufacturer's name, and presses a button on it.]_
> 
>  _[Thunder. First apparition: an armed head. To be precise, the Face of Boe rises up out of the ground on a platform lift.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Tell me, thou unknown power—
> 
>  **Movie-Susan** :  
>  He knows thy thought.  
>  Hear his speech, but say thou naught.
> 
>  **Face of Boe / Armed Head** :  
>  Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth, beware Macduff,  
>  Beware the Thane of Fife. Dismiss me. Enough.
> 
>  _[Apparition descends.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Hang on a moment. Can I ask questions?
> 
>  **Movie-Susan** :  
>  He will not be commanded. Here's another,  
>  More potent than the first.
> 
>  _[She clicks her remote control again. Second Apparition: a bloody child. Who in this case is represented by the sinister little girl with a balloon from 'Family of Blood'.]_
> 
>  **Little girl / Second Apparition** :  
>  Macbeth, Macbeth, Macbeth.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Had I three ears I'd hear thee.
> 
>  **Little girl / Second Apparition** :  
>  That's rude. Balloon, snuggle him.
> 
>  _[The balloon drifts away from her and advances threateningly on Turlough, making a whistling noise like wind in a chimney.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  What the blazes?
> 
>  _[He draws his sword, and points it at the balloon; it rises out of reach, feints, dodges round him, and knocks the sword out of his hand.]_
> 
>  **Movie-Susan** :  
>  You'd better say you're sorry, you know. It won't give up.
> 
>  _[The balloon roars, and resumes its advance on Turlough.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  All right! I'm sorry!
> 
>  **Little girl / Second Apparition** :  
>  That's much better. Come back here, balloon.
> 
>  _[The balloon returns to her hand.]_
> 
>  **Little girl / Second Apparition** :  
>  Be bloody, bold and resolute. Laugh to scorn  
>  The power of man, for none of woman born  
>  Shall harm Macbeth.
> 
>  _[Apparition descends.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Right, so that just leaves evil balloons, the Daleks, the Sontarans, the   
>  Rutans, sentient seaweed, all sorts of robots, the Nestene Consciousness...
> 
>  **Isobel** _[climbing carefully to her feet]_ :  
>  Don't forget jellied eels. _[She hiccups]_ Sorry.
> 
>  _[Movie-Susan activates her remote control again. Thunder. Third apparition: A child crowned, with a tree in his hand. This consists of Judith Winters (the Dalek battle computer from 'Remembrance'), sitting in her chair with the helmet down over her face, and holding a flowerpot in which a tiny rhododendron cutting is growing.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  More creepy kids. Just what we need.
> 
>  **All the witches** :  
>  Shut up.
> 
>  **Dalek Battle Computer / Third Apparition** :  
>  Be lion-mettled, proud, and take no care  
>  Who chafes, who frets, or where conspirers are.  
>  Macbeth shall never vanquished be until  
>  Great Birnam Wood to high Dunsinane Hill  
>  Shall come against him.
> 
>  _[The apparition descends. The witches all look at Turlough, expecting him to carry on.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** _[after furiously concentrating]_ :  
>  Let me have some time, I'll force this bit to finish in a rhyme.
> 
>  _[The witches slow-clap him.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Right. Now is there a question-and-answer session?
> 
>  **Sarah** :  
>  Depends. What's the question?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Shall Banquo's issue ever reign in this kingdom?
> 
>  **All the witches** :  
>  Seek to know no more.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Come on, you're dying to tell me.
> 
>  _[Movie-Susan points her remote control at the cauldron. It sinks into the ground. Hautboys.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Now what's going on?
> 
>  _[A Time-Space Visualiser rises up where the cauldron was. Banquo's Ghost, in his white sheet, is standing beside it.]_
> 
>  **All the witches** :  
>  Show his eyes and grieve his heart,  
>  Come like shadows, so depart.
> 
>  _  
> [The visualiser shows the First, Second, Fourth, Sixth, Seventh, Eighth, Atkinson and Tenth Doctors, all wearing crowns. After this the screen displays, in order, library images of James I, Charles I, Charles II, James II, the Old Pretender, the Young Pretender, Cardinal Henry Stuart, Charles Emmanuel IV, Victor Emmanuel I, Maria Beatrice of Savoy, Duke Francis of Modena, Queen Maria Theresia of Bavaria, Prince Rupprecht of Bavaria, Duke Albrecht of Bavaria, and Duke Franz of Bavaria.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Horrible sight! Now I see 'tis true,  
>  For the blood-boltered Banquo smiles upon me,  
>  And points at them for his. At least he smiles  
>  As much as I can see beneath that sheet.
> 
>  _[The visualiser sinks through the floor. Banquo's Ghost remains.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  What, is this so?
> 
>  **Izzy / Hecate** :  
>  If you didn't want to know, you shouldn't have asked, should you?
> 
>  _[Victoria turns to Banquo's Ghost.]_
> 
>  **Victoria** :  
>  Do be careful, Jamie.
> 
>  **Izzy** :  
>  What she said. Because I'm going to be waiting for you at the end of the story, and if there's the slightest hint of trouble I'll—

Little Zoë made what she thought was a subtle gesture at the little Delgado Master. He nodded, and pinched baby Jo, who started to cry. Samantha put down the Complete Works and hurried over to sort them out...

Leaving the story at the mercy of any too-clever-by-half toddler who happened to have designs on her adult counterpart.

>  **Little Zoë / Narrator** :  
>  Suddenly some rocks falled on Big Zoë.
> 
>  _[Styrofoam rocks fall on Zoë and bounce off, crushing her pointy hat.]_
> 
>  **Zoë** :  
>  Samantha! Jamie! Anyone! Get her away from the Book!
> 
>  **Little Zoë / Narrator** _[giggling]_ :  
>  Then a grand piano falled on her. An'... An'... An'... a bucket of icky stuff.
> 
>  _[A grand piano (made of balsa wood) lands on Zoë, knocking her to the ground. This turns out to be fortunate for her, because it means that most of the glue that follows ends up on the remains of the piano rather than on her. She crawls out of the wreckage looking every inch the infuriated madgirl, and gestures threateningly with what's left of her broomstick.]_
> 
>  **Zoë** :  
>  Backslash! Renice twenty littlezoë! Exe!
> 
>  **Little Zoë / Narrator** :  
>  An' then she tripped over an' hurt... her... ank... _[her voice slows down, like an underwound gramophone, and stops.]_
> 
>  **Victoria** :  
>  What did you do?
> 
>  **Zoë** :  
>  Magic. We are witches, after all.
> 
>  **Victoria** :  
>  That wasn't magic. It was nonsense.
> 
>  **Zoë** :  
>  Tell that to Wiz Zumwalt. Samantha? Are you there?
> 
>  **Samantha / Narrator** :  
>  Yeah, I'm here. What did you do to mini-you? She's gone all slow-motion.
> 
>  **Zoë** :  
>  Little girls shouldn't be naughty. So I made her... nice.
> 
>  **Samantha / Narrator** :  
>  How long's it going to last?
> 
>  **Zoë** :  
>  Probably only until the story finishes.
> 
>  **Samantha / Narrator** :  
>  Better than nothing, I suppose. Would that work on the other kids as well?
> 
>  **Zoë** :  
>  I don't see why not. Backslash—
> 
>  **Izzy** :  
>  Cut that out. You're supposed to be helping me, not those two.
> 
>  **Samantha / Narrator** :  
>  Pity. Anyway, there's supposed to be a dance next. D'you think you can handle it, or are you gonna chicken out again?
> 
>  **Izzy** :  
>  All right. Since you did ask so nicely.
> 
>  _[Music. The witches do a few desultory dance steps (except Isobel, who just stands there looking queasy) and then vanish, with Hecate. As before, this involves crossing their hands over their hearts and dematerialising.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  OK, so I was wrong. That's something you **do** see every day.
> 
>  _[Enter Lennox.]_
> 
>  **Ben / Lennox** :  
>  Thought you'd like to know, mate. Macduff's made off to England.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** _[aside]_ :  
>  This is what comes of thinking too long before carrying out my evil plans. From now on, I'm going to do the first thing that comes into my head. _[He thinks briefly.]_ Peri — oh, what a giveaway. Um. Need to prove I'm decisive. A congestion charge! No, that's ridiculous. Could I have a hint here?
> 
>  **Samantha / Narrator** :  
>  You could have someone killed.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** _[by now channelling Boris Johnson in a full-on panic]_ :  
>  Yes. Have someone killed. That'll show them I mean business. Send out a clear message about my government's policy. Running away to England isn't allowed. Anyone who tries has their family killed. Yes. Strong policies for a better Scotland.
> 
>  _[He turns to Lennox.]_
> 
> Go and get me Slaar and Ssard. _[He thinks briefly.]_ And Tyler.

Jamie pulled the sheet off his head, threw it aside, and took the book back from Samantha. Samantha turned her attention to Little Zoë, who appeared to be having a slow-motion tantrum. Fortunately, she'd been slowed down so much that her screams of rage were at infrasound frequencies and completely inaudible.

>  _  
> [Act 4, Scene 2. Fife. Macduff's castle. Enter Macduff's wife, her son, and Ross.]_
> 
>  **Steven** :  
>  I'm supposed to be your son?
> 
>  **Sara Kingdom / Lady Macduff** :  
>  Don't think too hard about it, Taylor. You might strain something. Anyway, Macduff isn't impressing me. First sign of trouble, he scarpers.
> 
>  **Brigadier / Ross** :  
>  I'm sure it's just a tactical withdrawal.
> 
>  **Sara / Lady Macduff** :  
>  Pfffft. If it's safe for us to stay here, why not him? And if it isn't, it's a bit careless of him to leave us here.
> 
>  **Brigadier / Ross** :  
>  I am so much a fool, should I stay longer,  
>  It would be my disgrace and your discomfort:  
>  I take my leave at once.
> 
>  _[He salutes and leaves.]_
> 
>  **Sara / Lady Macduff** :  
>  He's well out of it. D'you fancy a game of poker to pass the time?
> 
>  **Steven** :  
>  No way. You took me to the cleaners last time we played.
> 
>  _[Enter a Messenger.]_
> 
>  **Sam Tyler / Messenger** :  
>  Excuse me, can you spare a moment? Macbeth sent me. He says, can your husband come round to dinner on—
> 
>  _[Enter a second Messenger.]_
> 
>  **Donna / Messenger** :  
>  Whatever it is, it can wait. You lot have got to get out of here right now. They're coming to kill you!
> 
>  _[She makes a run for it.]_
> 
>  **Sara / Lady Macduff** :  
>  Run away? Not likely. This is a castle. Battle stations!
> 
>  _[A klaxon sounds. Men-at-arms rush through the hall.]_
> 
>  **Sam Tyler / Messenger** :  
>  What's this? Who's coming to kill you?
> 
>  **Sara / Lady Macduff** :  
>  Who d'you think, blockhead? Macbeth's hired goons!
> 
>  **Sam Tyler / Messenger** :  
>  Macbeth... He's set me up!
> 
>  **Sara / Lady Macduff** :  
>  You're not the only one. Have you got a gun?
> 
>  **Sam Tyler / Messenger** :  
>  No. Wait a moment, you've got guns? But this is the middle ages!
> 
>  **Sara / Lady Macduff** :  
>  A Space Security agent has her gun with her at all times, on duty or off. If you're not armed you'd best stay in the keep out of harm's way.
> 
>  **Sam Tyler / Messenger** :  
>  All right, I'm going, before you both turn into jellyfish or something. _[Aside]_ Marry, this is miching mallecho; it means mischief.
> 
>  _[The castle, seen from outside. The portcullis is lowered. The drawbridge is raised. Sara and Steven appear on the battlements, with blasters in their hands.]_
> 
>  _[Enter Murderers. They approach the far side of the moat.]_
> 
>  **Slaar / First Murderer** _[calling up to Sara]_ :  
>  Where isss your husssband?
> 
>  **Sara / Lady Macduff** :  
>  Nowhere you're likely to meet him.
> 
>  **Ssard / Second Murderer** :  
>  Prepare to die. Ssssss.
> 
>  _[They open fire. Steven and Sara return fire. The castle is wreathed in smoke; huge explosions engulf the Ice Warriors. Very little can be seen.]_
> 
>  **Slaar's voice** :  
>  Ssstand ssstill when we're ssshooting at you!
> 
>  **Sara's voice** :  
>  Oh, I don't think so. Let's see how well your armour does against rocket-propelled grenades.
> 
>  _[More explosions.]_

"What happens if she wins?" Jamie whispered to Samantha.

"She's got to lose — it's in the story," Samantha replied.

>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  They fought bravely, but they were, um, hopelessly outnumbered.
> 
>  _[The silhouettes of more Ice Warriors are seen marching up to the castle, firing blindly. They are mown down by blaster fire.]_
> 
>  **Slaar's voice** :  
>  We need air sssupport! Call in the sssship!
> 
>  **Steven's voice** :  
>  You know, I think I'm beginning to see the advantages of ketchup and pretending.
> 
>  **Sara's voice** :  
>  You big girl's blouse!
> 
>  **Steven's voice** :  
>  It's all right for you, you've got a card already.
> 
>  _[A Martian heavy battlecruiser glides down out of the sky and opens up on the castle with its sonic cannons. In a series of detonations the castle is reduced to rubble. Nothing could survive that.]_

Jamie glanced over the next scene.

"That was close," he said. "I think we'll skip a bit here, Samantha. It's   
just talking."

"Is that because you think the kids'll get bored?" Samantha asked teasingly. "Or are you worried about all the long words?"

Jamie frowned. "I've not needed any help yet," he pointed out.

>  _  
> [Act 4, Scene 3. England. Before the King's palace. Macduff is sitting on  
>  a stone bench. Malcolm stands before him.]_
> 
>  **Richard Mace / Malcolm** _[striking a pose]_ :  
>  Let us seek out some desolate shade, and there   
>  Weep our sad bosoms empty.
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  We'll leave it at that. All this stuff wi' Malcolm and Macduff sitting about outside the palace swapping stories goes on forever. The children are never going tae wear it. So we're going tae skip ahead a bit.
> 
>  **Richard Mace / Malcolm** :  
>  What? But this scene contains some of my finest speeches! _[He paces up and down, declaiming:]_  
>  I think our country sinks beneath the yoke.  
>  It weeps, it bleeds, and each new day a gash  
>  Is added to her wounds. I think withal...
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Och, put a sock in it.
> 
>  **Richard Mace** :  
>  Then, sir, I shall take my leave of you. You may, of course, attempt to procure an understudy, but I assure you his performance shall in no way be the equal of mine.
> 
>  _[He bows to the audience, and departs in high dudgeon.]_
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Right. We need a new Malcolm.
> 
>  _[Mickey appears.]_
> 
>  **Mickey** :  
>  Hang on. Who'm I supposed to be playing?
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Maol Chaluim mac Dhonnchaidh, Prince of Scots.
> 
>  **Mickey** :  
>  What? Not the tin dog? Not the comic relief?
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  No. So make the most of it.
> 
>  **Mickey / Malcolm** :  
>  Don't you worry. I will.   
> _[He strikes an heroic attitude, and begins to declaim, in a manner that makes Mace's acting look positively restrained.]_  
>  Whither indeed, before thy here-approach,  
>  Old Siward, with ten thousand warlike men,  
>  Already at a point, was setting forth.  
>  Now we'll together; and the chance of goodness  
>  Be like our warranted quarrel! Why are you silent?
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  I wasn't sure if you'd finished.
> 
>  **Mickey / Malcolm** :  
>  Well, more anon.
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Don't count on it. And we can do without the bit where everyone says how lovely the King of England is as well.
> 
>  _[Enter Ross.]_
> 
>  **Brigadier / Ross** :  
>  Does that mean I'm on already?
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Aye.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  My ever-gentle cousin! Fantastic! How's Scotland these days?
> 
>  **Brigadier / Ross** :  
>  Things are pretty bad there. I think, if you _[turning to Malcolm]_ were there, a rebellion might have quite a good chance of success.
> 
>  **Mickey / Malcolm** :  
>  Be't their comfort  
>  We are coming thither. Gracious England hath  
>  Lent us good Siward and ten thousand men.
> 
>  **Brigadier / Ross** :  
>  Splendid chaps, all of them. But now for the bad news.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Oh, so there's bad news, is there? Go on, get it over with.
> 
>  **Brigadier / Ross** :  
>  Your castle is surprised, your wife and babes  
>  Savagely slaughtered. To relate the manner  
>  Were on the quarry of these murdered deer  
>  To add the death of you.

Victoria burst into floods of tears. So did Rose and Dodo. Samantha hurried to Rose to comfort her, prompting Victoria and Dodo to go all-out for hysterics. There was some delay before the play could resume.

>  **Mickey / Malcolm** :  
>  Merciful Heaven!  
>  What, man, ne'er pull your hat upon your brows.  
>  Give sorrow words. The grief that does not speak  
>  Whispers the o'erfraught heart and bids it break.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Oh, shut it.
> 
>  **Mickey / Malcolm** :  
>  Be this the whetstone of your sword. Let grief  
>  Convert to anger: blunt not the heart, enrage it.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Don't you worry about that, Ricky. _[He reaches behind the stone bench, pulls out the Dalek-killing gun from 'Dalek', and cocks it.]_ Macbeth's a dead man.
> 
>  _[Exeunt.]_

"What's all this?" Jamie asked. He'd had to take little Victoria and Dodo into the lobby and wait for their hysterics to subside. On his return he'd found a large tin bath, half full of water, into which the children seemed to be throwing anything they could get their hands on.

"We're making a magic potion," said Baby Romana. "It's going to be the bestest magic potion ever."

Jamie shot Samantha a look in which inquiry and concern were blended.

"Look, I had to keep them busy somehow," she said. She glanced sternly at Nyssa. "And I made sure no-one put anyone else in."

"Aye, and what d'ye think Izzy'll say when she sees all this?" He picked a sodden gonk out of the bathtub. "Yon puir wee beastie'll never be the same again."

"It's a bit late to worry about Izzy now," Samantha said. "Perhaps you're not as fearless as you think?"

Jamie bridled. "We'll have tae get this lot tidied up before she comes back, or she'll think we can't keep order."

"Look, Jamie. They're just kids. They're harmless."

"Oh, ye think so? Hang on, what's that?"

Baby Liz finished emptying a bag of white powder into the bath. The water began to froth disconcertingly.

"Calcium carbide," she said proudly. "We're ready for the potassium now."

Nyssa tipped the contents of a tiny phial into the water. A column of purple flame leaped up from the bathtub and licked against the ceiling. Jamie and Samantha hurled themselves to the floor.

"Ace!" shouted little Ace. Along with most of the other children, she capered about wildly. Dodo decided to indulge in a renewed bout of hysterics.


	9. Fourth Interlude

## Interlude 4

Isobel pulled the cushion out of her blouse, and threw it aside. It blew a raspberry.

"I thought we did that rather well," she said.

Victoria wiped the last of the green makeup from her face. "Weren't we going to try to influence the story?"

"Oh yes, we were, weren't we? Frankly, I don't think we stood a chance. You might as well try to influence a bandersnatch." Isobel turned to Zoë. "Quite apart from your younger self doing her best to distract us all. I can see why you're scared of her."

Zoë, who'd already reverted to her usual twentyish appearance, frowned. "I'm **not** scared of her. She can just be very annoying."

"Can't imagine why that would be," Isobel said, trying to hide a smile.

"And what's a bandersnatch?"

"I'll explain later. Izzy, do you need us for anything else?"

"I think you'd all better wait here until the story's finished," Izzy said. "Watch a video or something. I'm going shopping. Don't worry, I'll see myself out."

She left. A few moments later the distant sound of farmyard noises could be heard as the front door was opened and closed.

"What did she mean, shopping?" Victoria asked.

"I'm not sure I want to know," Isobel said. "Did you see her expression? I wouldn't like to be in Jamie's shoes when she catches him."

Victoria put her hand to her mouth. "Then hadn't we better follow her and make sure she doesn't do anything rash?"

"No, we've got to stay here," Zoë said firmly.

"Why?"

"Because Izzy told us to."

"But why do we have to do what Izzy tells us?"

Zoë rubbed her forehead, looking puzzled.

"Because... she's Hecate... and we're witches... so we have to do what she says until the story's finished?"

The other two nodded. Somehow, the logic seemed unassailable.

*

Izzy looked dubiously at what appeared to be a set of brass knuckles, attached to a golden disc with a sinister-looking red gem at its centre.

"That was sent over by my cousin Sam," Alexander Carter explained. "She comes across them from time to time in her work."

"I don't think it's quite what I'm looking for," Izzy said. She glanced over the shelves. "Ah. Now, what about this?"

"An amusing curio, isn't it?" said Carter. "It comes from great-uncle Horace's collection. According to his notes, he found it when he was potholing in Kentucky."

"I'll take it," Izzy said.

*

Five minutes later, she was approaching the crèche once more; this time, she hoped, armed for bear. The Daleks were still standing there, as oblivious as ever.

"SITUATION. GREEN," their leader reported.

"Yes, I know." Izzy aimed her purchase at the nursery door. "Alohomora."

She marched through the door—

*

—And was standing in sunlit woodland.

After she'd spent the day wreathed in sea mist, the sunlight should have been a welcome change. Her actual thoughts, though, were more along the lines of "There must be more to this magic stuff than just pointing and saying foreign words," followed closely by "Where have I managed to land myself this time?"

She surveyed her surroundings. Deciduous woods. A road, leading away in both directions, utterly bereft of signposts, markings or traffic. No telephone kiosk or anything that might be the slightest help. She checked her pocket and found the mobile telephone was still there, but when she turned it on the only result was a 'no signal' message. Not really a surprise; mobile reception in the vicinity of Nameless was patchier than the Sixth Doctor's coat.

It looked as if she still wouldn't be able to get into the crèche until the story was over. Not only that, but it would probably have finished and the perpetrators escaped long before she could get back and give them what for. That wasn't an excuse to give up, though. She chose a direction at random and set out along the road.


	10. Act 5

## Act 5

Once the bathtub had cooled down, Jamie and Samantha had taken it to the kitchen and put off dealing with it until a more convenient time. But not all the evidence could be so easily disposed of.

"You couldn't find a stepladder, then?" Samantha asked.

"Neither hide nor hair of one," Jamie replied despondently. "But I wouldnae have let you climb it anyway."

"I'd have been happy to let you go up. I could have stood at the bottom and enjoyed the view."

They looked up again at the scorch mark on the ceiling.

"Face it," Samantha said. "We're not getting that cleaned up. It wouldn't be a soap and water job even if we could get up there."

Jamie sighed. "We'll jist have tae get on wi' the story and hope we finish before Izzy comes back..."

>  _[Act 5, Scene 1. Dunsinane. Ante-room in the castle. Enter a Doctor of Physic and a Waiting-Gentlewoman.]_
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  So, you say she's been sleepwalking?
> 
>  **Martha / Gentlewoman** :  
>  Ever since her husband went away. Up and down all night, writing nonsense on bits of paper.
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  Does she say anything?
> 
>  **Martha / Gentlewoman** :  
>  Yeah. But you wouldn't believe me if I told you what.
> 
>  _[Enter Lady Macbeth with a taper.]_
> 
>  **Martha / Gentlewoman** :  
>  There you are. Now you can see for yourself.
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** _[trying very hard to keep his expression solemn]_ :  
>  Well I never did. Tegan playing Lady Macbeth. Who'd have thought it?
> 
>  _[Lady Macbeth frowns, but manages to retain the appearance  
>  of sleepwalking.]_
> 
>  **Martha** :  
>  If you think there's something funny about the casting don't bother to notice which one of us actually has proper medical qualifications, and which one of us ends up playing the maid. Again.
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** _[whose mind was apparently elsewhere]_ :  
>  What?
> 
>  _[Lady Macbeth frowns again, and taps her foot on the floor.]_
> 
>  **Martha** :  
>  Oh, nothing. Let's get on with it.
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  You're sure she's asleep?
> 
>  **Martha / Gentlewoman** :  
>  Positive. She don't notice a thing. _[She waves her hand in front of Lady Macbeth's face; no response.]_
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** _[making handwashing motions]_ :  
>  Yet here's a spot. Out, damned spot; out, I say. What need we fear who knows it, when none can call our power to account? Yet who would have thought the old man to have so much blood in him?
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** _[scribbling frantically on a notepad]_ :  
>  This is all fascinating.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** _[still handwashing]_ :  
>  The Thane of Fife had a wife. Where is she now? What, will these hands ne'er be clean?
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor [to Martha]** :  
>  I think you'd better forget this. You have known what you should not.
> 
>  **Martha / Gentlewoman** :  
>  She has spoke what she should not, I am sure of that.
> 
>  **Tegan** _[suddenly fully compos mentis]_ :  
>  I'll have you know I'm following the script to the letter.
> 
>  **Martha / Gentlewoman** :  
>  Look, I didn't mean it like that...
> 
>  **Tegan** :  
>  It's bad enough being cast as a homicidally insane villainess without you lot telling me I can't get my lines right. Like yours are 100% Shakespeare either.
> 
>  **Martha / Gentlewoman** :  
>  Can I get a word in edgew...
> 
>  **Tegan** :  
>  And another thing. How am I supposed to be doing handwashing while I'm holding a lighted taper? It's lucky this thing's only a battery-powered prop, or I'd have set fire to something by now.
> 
>  _[The Fifth Doctor takes her by the hand.]_
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  Tegan, Tegan, Tegan. No-one was criticising your ability to deliver the correct lines.
> 
>  **Tegan** :  
>  Oh.
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  So if you could just get back into character, we'd all be very grateful. Martha, can we have Tegan's cue please?
> 
>  _[Tegan lets her eyes go glazed.]_
> 
>  **Martha / Gentlewoman** :  
>  Heaven knows what she has known.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  Here's the smell of the blood still. All the perfumes of Arabia will not sweeten this little hand. Oh. Oh. Oh.
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** _[automatically]_ :  
>  Brave heart, Tegan.
> 
>  **Martha / Gentlewoman** :  
>  I would not have such a heart in my bosom for the dignity of my whole body.
> 
>  **Tegan** _[snapping out of it again]_ :  
>  What's wrong with my heart?
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  Nothing, Tegan, it's very nice. But we really need you to stay in character. You shouldn't be finding it so difficult.
> 
>  **Tegan** :  
>  No, it's no good. I've lost the mood now.
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** _[with a sigh]_ :  
>  Look into my eyes, Tegan. You can do this. You are feeling sleepy, very sleepy...
> 
>  **Tegan** :  
>  Oh, no you don't. _[She yawns.]_
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  You're almost asleep, Tegan. You should go to bed.
> 
>  **Tegan / Lady Macbeth** :  
>  To bed, to bed. There's knocking at the gate. Come, come, come, come, give me your hand. To bed, to bed, to bed.
> 
>  _[Exit Lady Macbeth.]_
> 
>  **Martha / Gentlewoman** :  
>  You realise that sounded like she was propositioning you?
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  _What?_
> 
>  **Martha / Gentlewoman** :  
>  Sorry if you think I'm stating the obvious, only I know half the time you couldn't spot a lovestruck companion if she was jumping up and down in front of you shouting "I'm a lovestruck companion." You might call me an expert on the subject.
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  Oh, nonsense, Martha. Seeing more than's there  
>  Is something we must always guard against;  
>  By adding two and two and making five  
>  The brightest mind can fail. Look after her;  
>  Remove from her the means of all anoyance,  
>  And still keep eyes upon her. So, good night:  
>  My mind she has mated—
> 
>  _[He breaks off mid-sentence, and his face goes completely blank for some seconds.]_
> 
>  **Martha / Gentlewoman** _[snapping her fingers in front of his face]_ :  
>  Hello? Hello? Doctor?
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  I think, but dare not speak.
> 
>  **Martha / Gentlewoman** :  
>  Yeah, I bet.
> 
>  _[Exeunt.]_

Jamie set down the book, and caught hold of little Sarah, who was staggering about with her hands stretched out in front of her and her eyes half-closed.

"And what d'ye think you're doing?" he asked her.

"I don't know," Sarah said. "I'm asleep."

"Sleepwalking, aye? And ye wouldnae be trying to sleepwalk into the kitchen and steal the sweeties, now?"

Sarah merely closed her eyes tightly and began making snoring noises. Jamie sighed, picked her up, and carried her back to where the other children were.

"Keep an eye on her," he said. "And if she keeps making that noise no-one's going tae hear what happened next."

Harry experimentally pulled her hair, which certainly stopped the snoring, but replaced it with angry cries. Samantha hurried across to separate the combatants before the situation escalated.

>  _[Act 5, Scene 2. The country near Dunsinane. Enter Menteith, Caithness, Angus, Lennox and soldiers.]_
> 
>  **Yates / Menteith** :  
>  Malcolm and the English aren't far away.
> 
>  **Group Capt Gilmore / Angus** :  
>  Best if we rendezvous at Birnam.
> 
>  **Yates / Menteith** :  
>  Any news on the tyrant?
> 
>  **Bambera / Caithness** :  
>  He's holed up at Dunsinane.
> 
>  **Yates / Menteith** :  
>  Then he'll probably be digging in for a long siege. I'll get the artificers to see about getting some engines built.

"Steam engines?" asked the little Fourth Doctor hopefully.

"Siege engines, you idiot," said the baby Rani. "Catapults throwing big rocks, or dead horses to spread disease in the castle."

"Why are the horsies dead?" little Jo asked. "Did someone kill them? That isn't nice."

"There won't be any dead horses," Jamie said. "This isnae that kind of story."

"I want dead horses," the Rani pouted.

>  _[Act 5, Scene 3. Dunsinane. A room in the castle. Enter Macbeth, the Doctor of Physic, and attendants.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Don't talk to me about Ice Warriors. Just when a heavy cruiser would come in useful they decide, what a shame, they've got an urgent appointment to have their carapaces waxed. Treacherous swine. The moment my back's turned everyone's off consorting with the English. Well, what do I care?
> 
>  **Antimony / Seyton** _[appearing suddenly behind him]_ :  
>  I don't know. What do you care?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** _[jumps and spins round]_ :  
>  You aren't supposed to come until I call you.
> 
>  **Antimony / Seyton** :  
>  Sorry. Would you like me to go out and then you can call me and I'll come in again?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  No, you might as well stay. I'm going out to inspect the soldiers. Get me my armour.
> 
>  **Antimony / Seyton** :  
>  Isn't that a bit early, your majesty?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  That's rich coming from someone who jumped his cue. What is _wrong_ with everyone?
> 
>  **Antimony / Seyton** :  
>  I don't know, your majesty. Speaking for myself, I am in excellent condition.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Go **away**. _[Aside]_ Creepy androids. They're worse than the creepy kids. _[He turns to the Doctor.]_ Doctor, what do you make of my wife?
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  Well, in all honesty, I'd recommend sedatives.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  _I_ could have told you that, bearing in mind who's playing her.
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  Anyway, there's nothing much I can do for her.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Not much of a doctor, are you?
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  To be frank, Turlough, you don't entirely convince me as the Tyrant of Scotland either.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Throw physic to the dogs; I'll none of it.  
>  _[To an attendant]_ Come, put my armour on. On **me** , smart guy.  
>  Not that way round— I'll put it on myself.  
>  Just bring it after me. It's time we left.  
>  I will not be afraid of death and bane  
>  Till Birnam Forest come to Dunsinane.
> 
>  _[Exeunt all but the Doctor.]_
> 
>  **Fifth Doctor** :  
>  Were I from Dunsinane away and clear,  
>  Profit again should hardly draw me here.
> 
>  _[He steps into a wardrobe, which dematerialises.]_

Samantha glanced over Jamie's shoulder at the script. "Meanwhile, the English army approaches", she said.

>  _[Act 5, Scene 4. Country near Birnam Wood. Drum and colours. Enter Malcolm, Siward and Young Siward, Macduff, Menteith, Caithness, Angus, Lennox, Ross, and Soldiers, marching.]_
> 
>  **Mickey / Malcolm** :  
>  Cousins, I hope the days are near at hand  
>  That chambers will be safe.
> 
>  **Yates / Menteith** :  
>  We doubt it nothing.
> 
>  **Ancelyn / Siward** :  
>  What wood is this before us?
> 
>  **Yates / Menteith** :  
>  The wood of Birnam.
> 
>  **Mickey / Malcolm** :  
>  Let every soldier hew him down a bough—
> 
>  _[Jo, Nancy, Blonde Sam and Mel rush in. Jo and Mel chain themselves to trees; the others unfurl Greenpeace banners.]_
> 
>  **Jo** :  
>  No! Save the trees!
> 
>  **Nancy** :  
>  Don't you dare pillage our ecological birthright!
> 
>  **Blonde Sam** :  
>  Women Against Irresponsible Forestry!
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Now, lassies, there's no need for all this fuss...
> 
>  **Mel** :  
>  Then let's hope a reasonable compromise can be found.
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Um. We could use plastic branches instead?
> 
>  _[The eco-warriors gasp in horror.]_
> 
>  **Blonde Sam** :  
>  Wasting the planet's precious resources on throwaway projects!
> 
>  **Jo** :  
>  And I bet they won't be recycled. They'll end up in a landfill somewhere.
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** _[hoping against hope]_ :  
>  Papier-maché?
> 
>  _[Renewed gasps.]_
> 
>  **Mel** :  
>  Chlorine bleach!
> 
>  **Nancy** :  
>  Toxic effluent!
> 
>  **Jo** :  
>  Dibenzurofans!

Jamie gave Samantha a despairing look. She shrugged and took the book out of his hands.

>  **Samantha / Narrator** :  
>  The _invading army_ weren't about to be stopped by a few fruitcakes in tie-dyed shirts. The troublemakers were swiftly dispersed with police dogs and water cannon.
> 
>  _[K-9 glides in and cuts Jo and Mel free with his blaster. As he moves clear, buckets of water are thrown over the eco-warriors from offstage.]_
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Right. Let's get a move on.
> 
>  **Ancelyn / Siward** :  
>  The time approaches  
>  That will with due decision make us know  
>  What we shall say we have, and what we owe.
> 
>  _[Exeunt, marching.]_

Jamie glanced over the script for the next act. Then he read and reread one particular stage direction.

"Samantha," he said. "I think Tegan may need some encouragement with the next bit. D'ye think you could pop into the story, just in case?"

"Right you are. Meanwhile, back at the castle..."

>  _[Act 5, Scene 5. Dunsinane. Within the Castle. Enter Macbeth, Seyton, and soldiers, with drum and colours]._
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Hang out our banners on the outward walls;  
>  The cry is still 'They come:' our castle's strength  
>  Will laugh a siege to scorn: here let them...
> 
>  _[He trails off as distant sounds of an argument are heard.]_
> 
>  **Samantha's voice** :  
>  Look, just get on with it.
> 
>  **Tegan's voice** :  
>  Why? I don't remember this in any version of  Macbeth that   
>  I've seen. Has Jamie been nicking bits from somewhere else?
> 
>  **Samantha's voice** :  
>  What's the matter, scared? Look, I promise you it'll be perfectly safe.
> 
>  **Tegan's voice** :  
>  Easy for you to be brave when you don't have to do it.
> 
>  **Samantha's voice** :  
>  I've met your sort before. Give you a purple hat and you think you can treat the rest of us like dirt.
> 
>  **Tegan's voice** :  
>  I'm not having some gobby Scouse brat talk to me like that...
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  What is that noise?
> 
>  **Antimony / Seyton** :  
>  It is the cry of women, my good lord.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Yes, I rather gathered that. Go and find out what the problem is.
> 
>  **Antimony / Seyton** :  
>  At once, your majesty. _[He leaves.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I have almost—
> 
>  **Tegan's voice** :  
>  All right! Anything to shut you up! Here goes!
> 
>  _[She falls downward past the window. Then she reappears,  
>  going up. Then again, going down.]_
> 
>  **Tegan's voice** _[fading in and out as she bounces]_ :  
>  Trampolines! What pillock thought a trampoline was a good idea?
> 
>  _[Enter Seyton.]_
> 
>  **Antimony / Seyton** :  
>  The queen, my lord, is—
> 
>  **Tegan's voice** :  
>  Someone help me down off this thing!
> 
>  **Samantha's voice** :  
>  There, that wasn't too bad, was it?
> 
>  **Antimony / Seyton** :  
>  The queen, my lord—
> 
>  **Tegan's voice** _[fading as she walks away]_ :  
>  I notice you aren't exactly rushing to do it. And I told you, chucking   
>  yourself off the castle walls belongs in  Tosca, not   
> Macbeth. Who's monkeying with the script?
> 
>  _[Macbeth and Seyton wait in case she pipes up again. She doesn't.]_
> 
>  **Antimony / Seyton** :  
>  The queen, my lord, is dead.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** _[pointedly]_ :  
>  This is a tale  
>  Told by an _idiot_ , full of sound and fury,  
>  Signifying nothing.
> 
>  _[Enter a Messenger.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Thou comest to use thy tongue; thy story quickly.
> 
>  **Donna / Messenger** :  
>  If you think you're going to be making free with my tongue, dream on, mate.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Look, just speak your piece and get out of here.
> 
>  **Donna / Messenger** :  
>  As I did stand my watch upon the hill,  
>  I look'd toward Birnam, and anon, methought,  
>  The wood began to move.

\- * -

The Rolls-Royce stopped at Izzy's frantic waving. Its back door opened.

"Need a lift?" Jabe asked.

"Yes, please." Izzy sank gratefully into the plush upholstery. "Are you going anywhere near the crèche?"

"Not a problem." Jabe rapped on the partition separating her from her driver. "Rhodri, we're going to stop off at Look Who's Talking."

The car accelerated in the direction of Nameless.

\- * -

> **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Liar and slave!
> 
>  _[Donna slaps him.]_
> 
>  **Donna / Messenger** :  
>  If you treat all your employees like that it's no wonder everyone's gone over to the English. I resign.
> 
>  _[She storms out.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  If this which she avouches does appear,  
>  There is nor flying hence nor tarrying here.  
>  I gin to be aweary of the sun,  
>  And wish the estate o' the world were now undone.  
>  Ring the alarum-bell! Blow, wind! come, wrack!  
>  At least we'll die with harness on our back.
> 
>  _[Exeunt.]_

"There," Samantha said. "I can wrap her round me little finger. Meanwhile, back with the English..."

She sat down among the toddlers and picked up Baby Tegan, who promptly and deliberately bit her.

>  _[Act 5, Scene 6. Dunsinane. Before the castle. Drum and colours. Enter Malcolm, Siward, Macduff and their army, with boughs.]_
> 
>  **Mickey / Malcolm** :  
>  Now near enough: your leafy screens throw down.  
>  And show like those you are.
> 
>  _[They drop the branches. The four members of WAIF, still dripping wet, dash in breathlessly.]_
> 
>  **Blonde Sam** :  
>  Typical! Pillage the planet's resources for some temporary gain and then just throw away what you've stolen—
> 
>  _[More buckets of water are thrown over her; she splutters and falls silent.]_
> 
>  **Nancy** :  
>  Actually, if you stacked all those branches in a heap you'd have quite a nice habitat for insects.
> 
>  **Mickey** :  
>  Then make it so. All would rejoice to see  
>  Your words of warning turned to deeds of worth.
> 
>  _[Macduff gives him an odd look.]_
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Getting a bit carried away there, aren't you, Ricky?
> 
>  _[The four eco-activists reluctantly start stacking the branches.]_
> 
>  **Ancelyn / Siward** :  
>  Do we but find the tyrant's power to-night,  
>  Let us be beaten, if we cannot fight.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Fine. Let's get a move on.
> 
>  _[Exeunt.]_

Samantha wrapped a handkerchief round her bitten finger.

"You do that again," she said threateningly, "And I'll belt you one. Meanwhile, Macbeth fights for his crown..."

>  _[Act 5, Scene 7. Another part of the field.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Looks like they're all human so far. I might still get away with it.
> 
>  _[Enter Young Siward.]_
> 
>  **Benton / Young Siward** :  
>  What is thy name?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Macbeth. Scared yet?
> 
>  **Benton / Young Siward** :  
>  Not really. Without your hired assassins you couldn't kill anyone.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  We'll see about that.
> 
>  _[He draws his claymore. They fight. After a couple of blows Benton claps his hand to his head and collapses with a groan.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Thou wast born of woman,  
>  But swords I smile at, weapons laugh to scorn,  
>  Brandished by man that's—
> 
>  _[He breaks off. Benton appears to be turning into a Primord.]_

"He's changing! He's changing!" Vicki danced around in triumph.

"He's been using Swarfega," said little Liz smugly. "Told you so."

>  **Benton / Primord** :  
>  Rrrrrrrrgghhhhhhh....
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth**   
> _[backing away nervously]_ :  
>  Hello? Jamie? Samantha? I don't remember this bit from school. How do I get away?
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Ye need something cold. Like a fire extinguisher.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  And where am I going to find that on the middle of an eleventh-century battlefield?

Jamie looked pleadingly at Samantha. "This isnae supposed tae happen! Any ideas?"

Samantha shook her head. "I suppose those Ice Warriors wouldn't be any good?"

"No, they're called that because they canna stand heat," Jamie explained.

"Daleks!" little Davros suggested. "Movie Daleks!"

"We're no' having Daleks in this story," Jamie said firmly.

Baby Susan took her thumb out of her mouth. "What about those water cannons the other army had?" she asked.

"Brilliant!" Samantha said.

>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Macbeth hastily made for a water cannon that the other side had abandoned  
>  and turned it on the monster.
> 
>  _[Buckets of water are thrown over the primord, resulting in a great deal of steam and roaring. Turlough / Macbeth scarpers.]_

Samantha didn't have time for more than a breathless "Meanwhile, Macduff continues his search..." before the action resumed.

>  _[Act 5, Scene 8. Another part of the field. Alarums. Enter Macduff.]_
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  That way the noise is. Tyrant, show thy face!
> 
>  _[A party of Ice Warriors can be seen approaching. He aims his gun at them, then thinks better of it and ducks down behind the pile of branches. Once they have passed, he re-emerges.]_
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Poor sods. Mercenaries. I'm not going to kill them for doing their job. Now, where's Macbeth got to?
> 
>  _[Exit. Alarum.]_

"Meanwhile, back with the English..."

>  _[Act 5, Scene 9. Another part of the field. Enter Malcolm and Siward.]_
> 
>  **Ancelyn / Siward** :  
>  This way, my lord. The castle's gently rendered.
> 
>  **Mickey / Malcolm** :  
>  I think I'd go for pebbledash myself.
> 
>  **Ancelyn / Siward** _[sighs]_ :  
>  I mean they've surrendered. Enter, sir, the castle.
> 
>  _[Exeunt. Alarum.]_

"Meanwhile, in the steam baths in Edgware Road..."

Jamie stared at Samantha.

"Are you feeling all right?" he asked her.

"Sorry, dunno what I was thinking there."

Jamie shrugged. "Meanwhile, back with Macbeth..."

>  _[Act 5, Scene 10. Another part of the field.]_
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  The battle's lost. But that doesn't mean I'll go quietly.
> 
>  _[Enter Macduff, with his big gun.]_
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  If you want to live, drop your sword.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  "No man of woman born." Let me guess.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** _[nodding]_ :  
>  Looms.
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  Go on, then, get it over with.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Everyone deserves a chance. There's been so much bloodshed already. Why don't you just surrender?
> 
>  **Turlough / Macbeth** :  
>  I will not yield,  
>  To kiss the ground before young Malcolm's feet,  
>  And to be baited with the rabble's curse.  
>  Though Birnam wood be come to Dunsinane,  
>  And thou opposed, being of no woman born,  
>  Yet I will try the last. Before my body  
>  I throw my warlike shield. Lay on, Macduff,  
>  And—
> 
>  _[Macduff fires. There is a blaze of light, and then all that remains of Macbeth is a pair of smoking boots.]_

The toddlers cheered.

>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  All talk and no do. _[Shakes his head sadly.]_ What a waste.
> 
>  _[Act 5, Scene 11. Another part of the field. Retreat and flourish. Enter with a drummer and colours Malcolm, Siward, Ross, thanes and soldiers.]_
> 
>  **Mickey / Malcolm** _[to Siward]_ :  
>  Macduff is missing, and your noble son.
> 
>  **Brigadier / Ross** :  
>  I'm afraid your son's dead. Nasty business. Had to put him out of his misery. _[He holsters his revolver.]_
> 
>  **Ancelyn / Siward** :  
>  As long as his wounds were on the front, then he died well.
> 
>  _[Enter Macduff.]_
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Um. I should have brought you the usurper's cursèd head, except I got a bit carried away with, you know, the gun and everything, and there wasn't a head left. So here's an "I heart Manchester" T-shirt instead.
> 
>  **Mickey / Malcolm** :  
>  I really hope you're joking. Knowing what  
>  You tend to buy when getting things for Rose  
>  I'd give that shirt about one chance in ten  
>  That it won't be too small or fade with use.
> 
>  **Ninth Doctor / Macduff** :  
>  Ricky the idiot — and I never thought I'd say this — Hail, King of Scotland.
> 
>  **All except Malcolm** :  
>  Hail, King of Scotland!
> 
>  **Mickey / Malcolm** :  
>  We shall not spend a large expanse of time...
> 
>  **Jamie / Narrator** :  
>  Then don't.
> 
>  **Mickey / Malcolm** :  
>  I get the message. 'Tis indeed high time  
>  To finish off. This and what needful else  
>  That calls upon us, by the grace of grace  
>  We will perform in measure, time and place.  
>  So thanks to all at once, and to each one,  
>  Whom we invite to see us crowned at Scone.
> 
>  _[Flourish. Exeunt Omnes.]_

"One doesn't rhyme with Scone!" the little Second Doctor protested. "Or even with scone."

"Aye, but ye're no' expected tae notice that." Jamie looked around at his audience. "Anyway, that's the end of the story."

"Who were all those kings the witches showed Macbeth?" little Nyssa asked.

"Banquo's descendants," Jamie explained. "The Stuart dynasty, the true kings of Britain."

"How can they be true kings if they're stewards?" Baby Anji complained. "Dave says, in The Lord of the Rings—"

Before she could finish her question, the door was flung open and Izzy stalked in, holding a three-foot black rod with a rusty star on the end.

"Well, well, well," she said. "Look what the cat dragged in. I'm surprised at you, Jamie. As you know, I've been speaking to Zoë — who I was pleased to see didn't accompany you, so presumably she's learned her lesson — and Isobel and Victoria. They all said they'd warned you, and you didn't listen."

"That isnae quite exactly how it was," Jamie protested, backing away.

"Obviously I was too lenient last time. A second offence deserves a harsher punishment. Oh, and where's your little friend?"

"She's over here, miss," said baby Tegan, jumping up and down and waving.

Samantha extricated herself from a tangle of toddlers. Izzy pointed the rod in her direction.

"Good," she said. "Get over there with Jamie."

Samantha scowled defiantly. "Do you think you can frighten us with that?"

Izzy waved the rod at a nearby chair, which turned into a plush, chair-sized, cuddly frog.

"Any further questions?" she asked. "No? Then stand in the Naughty Corner and face me."

The two unauthorised storytellers reluctantly backed into the corner.

"Ye wouldnae really change us intae frogs?" Jamie pleaded.

Izzy grinned. "Why not? You've put me to considerable trouble today. I think it's only right that some of it is visited upon you. And as you suffer through the next few days, green and croaking and eating flies, you might care to reflect on the rashness of meddling with things you know nothing about..."

"She's turned into a gloating villainess!" Samantha whispered to Jamie. "If she keeps banging on we might escape."

Izzy shook her head. "No such luck."

She raised the wand.


	11. Epilogues

## Epilogues

"Do you think the story's over yet?" Victoria asked.

Zoë paused the holovid. The handsome, athletic, dark-haired pirate captain froze in the very act of parrying a vicious blow from his opponent.

"I don't know," she said. "Why?"

"Well, if it is, we should go and make sure Jamie's all right."

"He'll be fine," Isobel said. "Now do be quiet. I want to see the rest of this."

Victoria hesitated, obviously torn between her vague fears of trouble for Jamie and the very visible hologram of a swashbuckling hero in direst peril.

"At least let's watch the next little bit," Isobel suggested. "Then we can see how Captain Clegg manages to escape."

"I suppose a few more minutes won't hurt," Victoria conceded.

"That's more like it. Carry on, Zoë."

Zoë resumed the playback. The three watchers leaned forward eagerly; within seconds, adventure, romance and derring-do on the high seas had driven all thought of Jamie from their minds.

\- * -

In a world of freezing blue-violet mist, the dark reaper held out his hand.

YOUR CARD, PLEASE, MS. KINGDOM.

"Here you are," Sara said.

THANK YOU.

There was a tiny click of metal against metal, and the card was handed back to her with a new hole in it.

AND YOUR COLLEAGUE?

"He doesn't have one yet."

I SHALL ISSUE ONE WITHOUT DELAY. The cloaked and hooded figure turned to Steven. FOR DATA PROTECTION PURPOSES I AM OBLIGED TO INFORM YOU—

"Just before you start," Steven said. "Where's the other fellow? He was in the castle with us. You're not telling me he survived?"

HE DID NOT. BUT HE IS NOT HANDLED BY MY DEPARTMENT.

"So who does get to deal with him, then?"

TIME, said Death, with an air of even more finality than usual. LET US RESUME. FOR DATA PROTECTION PURPOSES...

\- * -

To Sam Tyler, being killed and finding himself in the past was becoming something of a habit. He scrambled to his feet and looked down. Sandals. Some kind of leather kilt. A gladius. Armour. Cool metal — presumably a helmet — was enclosing his head. There was a ringing in his ears, which sounded horribly like David Bowie singing "What kind of fool am I?"

He looked around. Mosaic floor. Painted walls. Couches. Statues. Urns.

"Oh, great," he muttered to himself. "What year's this supposed to be? And what's the betting I'll still be working for some loud-mouthed self-opinionated homophobic maniac?"

"Quinctilius Varus!" Augustus Caesar's voice boomed from behind him. "WHERE ARE MY EAGLES?"

\- * -

"I am not serving you two any more," Katarina said firmly. "House rules."

"Come on, then, Superintendent," Inspector Pascoe said. "She's right, you know. You've had quite enough already."

Superintendent Dalziel staggered to his feet. "Gimme a hand, then."

Pascoe took one of his arms. Katarina moved reluctantly to support the other.

"Allow me, miss." Will Shakespeare darted in and took her place at Dalziel's side. While he and Pascoe guided the overweight Superintendent into the car park, Katarina took Michelle to one side and engaged her in conversation.

Not long after Shakespeare had returned to his own seat, Katarina approached him.

"I wanted to thank you for your help," she said. "It is not always so easy to rid ourselves of undesirables."

"Think nothing of it, love. Who were they?"

"That is another mystery. Polly seemed to think they were Harvey and Len, but anyone can see they are not. I cannot tell what has got into her at the moment." She shook her head. "Some days I do not know whether I am coming or going."

"Why not sit down for a bit and have a drink?"

"Not while I am on duty." Katarina turned to go.

"Perhaps afterwards, then?"

Katarina turned back and smiled at him. "Perhaps."

\- * -

There was a brief hum in the air, and suddenly Samantha and Jamie, instead of facing an infuriated Izzy, were back in the T-Mat booth at the substation.

"Gia!" Jamie stepped out of the cubicle. "You've saved us in the nick of time."

Gia, her usual efficient self, nodded.

"Why have all your clothes gone green?" she asked, her hands darting swiftly across the control board as she shut the system down. "It can't be because it's St Patrick's Day. With a name like Kelly, I'd know."

"Izzy was gonna turn us into frogs," Samantha explained. "You rescued us before the spell took hold."

Gia pulled a face. "Actually, on second thoughts, I was better off not knowing. The 'nick of time', you say?"

Jamie and Samantha both nodded.

"Then it sounds as if you two owe me a big favour."

"Just name your favour, and it will be done," said Samantha.

"We won't forget the service that you did," Jamie added.

Jamie looked at Samantha. Samantha looked at Jamie.

"You realise that we're speaking in blank verse?" she said.

Jamie stared helplessly back. "I canna stop, however hard I try..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I cannot hope to name each single work  
> That I have touched on in this Story Time.  
> But here are those whose influence extends  
> Beyond a passing reference or two:  
> 'Macbeth', of course, was written by the Bard.  
> The BBC created 'Doctor Who'  
> And 'Life on Mars', from whence Sam Tyler comes.  
> The Boffo shop's from Terry Pratchett's books.  
> Sam Carter is from 'Stargate SG-1',  
> While Horace Carter Hovey really lived  
> And did indeed explore Colossal Cave.  
> Wiz Zumwalt was created by Rick Cook.  
> The Round is [Tyler Dion's](http://ttrarchive.com/tylerdion.html). For the crèche,  
> Credit must rest with [Imran Inayat](http://ttrarchive.com/imraninayat.html).  
> To [BKWillis](http://ttrarchive.com/bkwillis.html), props for Story Time,  
> Zack, Carter's Imports, and of course François.  
> My thanks to those who recently discussed  
> Their own ideas for Nameless in this group,  
> Or took the time to comment on this tale.  
> Some credit, too, is due to [Vicky J](http://ttrarchive.com/vickyj.html)  
> Who sulked until I said I'd do this play.


End file.
